Walking Wounded
by Houndeye
Summary: After a night out took a turn for the worse, university student Sam Green expected to wake up in a hospital bed – or worse, not at all. So when he does wake up with the new identity of Republic Navy Cadet San Gree, he finds himself thrown headlong into the turmoil of the Clone Wars, where knowledge and a little bit of luck are his greatest weapons. (SI)(TCW)
1. Chapter 1

_The_ Eta _-class shuttle is the premier model of passenger shuttle available from Cygnus, capable of transporting six occupants in comfort and security, as well as a generous quantity of cargo. Military liaison variants come equipped with_ Undicur _-class speeders as standard._

\- Excerpt from "Passenger and Liaison Shuttles", _Cygnus Spaceworks Product Catalogue,_ vol 608, no.3, p. 16.

* * *

"Gree? Gree! Open up in there! We're going to be late!"

Republic Naval Cadet Lerona Kodd glanced down at her chrono, and sighed. She glanced up and down the stark white corridor to see if anyone else was yet to leave the dormitory, but saw no one. _Late again,_ she thought. _If this goes on my report…_

Even though she considered herself fairly quick to adapt to the rigours of spaceflight, she'd still hardly slept the previous night. Not only was today her first shift on the bridge of the _Unity,_ but it was also the start of the Leadership Course, the final semester of work in the run up to the final examination. As part of their last year of instruction before joining the ranks of enlisted officers, cadets were rotated through actively-serving military vessels, albeit ones that were unlikely to see frontline combat. The _Unity_ was an Acclamator-class assault ship, an 800-metre Kuat Drive Yards model designed for planetary assault and troop transportation. It was also the largest ship Lerona had ever served on, and even after a week on board she was still struck by the sheer size of the interior spaces and the crew of several hundred. Indeed, there were many firsts about this voyage for Lerona – her first time visiting the Outer Rim, and her first time interacting with clone troopers.

Busy as she was, Lerona hadn't factored dealing with a fellow cadet's travel sickness into her timetable. Lerona had hardly seen her classmate since dinner last night, when he and a small group of late arrivals had been brought aboard from the Naval Academy on Correlia. A fair-skinned, slim youth of approximately the same age as Lerona, San Gree had introduced himself as being a fellow signals officer-in-training, and the pair met their instructor. After that, San had retired to the dormitory, claiming he was feeling unwell. He had missed breakfast, and locked himself in the communal refresher.

"San, I need to talk to you. We're almost out of time."

For the last three days, the cadets had been drilled by their instructors in the art of forming an honour guard, and in just under half an hour, they would be putting their skills to the test in the main hangar. A high-ranking officer was being ferried by the _Unity_ to the Outer Rim, and over the coming days they were scheduled to deliver a leadership seminar to the cadets. This close to graduation, Lerona knew that the instructors were keeping a careful eye on them, and had been known to downgrade the quality of or even outright exclude those who failed to put years of classroom theory into practice.

Lerona put her ear against the door. "San?" Not hearing any coughing, she swiped her access card and entered the communal washroom.

Like every other room aboard the _Unity,_ the washroom was paneled floor to ceiling with white and grey metal. Cubicles were set along one wall, while the other was dominated by a benchtop and several hand basins. Hunched over the centre basin was Signals Cadet San Gree.

"You alright? You don't look so good."

Lerona caught a brief glimpse of San's bloodshot eyes before his head return to the basin.

 _Great. Looks like a first-time flyer…but how would you get to this level without knowing you couldn't handle space travel?_

Taking a deep breath, San stumbled back from the basin and leaned up against the back wall of the fresher. His face was pale and drawn, and he shivered despite the warmth of the heated downlights.

"When did you start feeling off? You seemed fine at dinner last night."

Glancing at the time on her chrono, Lerona pulled San back from the wall, and did her best to brush the creases out of his uniform. She removed his cap, and held it for him to straighten out, but she received only a vacant stare in response, and found herself placing it back on his head.

"There…how's that?"

San continued to stare at his reflection in the mirror. His expression had changed from one of shock to one of sheer bafflement, and the way he slowly ran his hands over the material of his cap reminded Lerona of a beggar she remembered seeing in a street market, running their hands over a bolt of expensive cloth. His fingers found the Republic sigil, sewn into the front of the cap, and he gaped.

"What, don't they have dress caps back on Correllia?" Lerona grinned at the joke, but San said nothing. Slowly, he turned his head to look at her, and Lerona stared straight back. For a moment, neither cadet moved – then San clapped a hand over his mouth, coughed, and stumbled back to the basin.

 _That's a first, even for my jokes._ Lerona gave her chrono a final check, and stepped over to the door. "Alright San, we've got maybe fifteen minutes to get down to the main hangar. If you really don't feel up to it, comm me and I'll tell the drill instructor – but _please_ give it a shot. It really wouldn't do us any favours to be singled out this early. Remember what they told us about slip ups…"

* * *

Some minutes later, the door to the refresher opened, and a figure stepped out. Pale, shivering, one hand hovered near his mouth as he felt a cough rise in his throat. He was exhausted, his stomach aching after an hour spent bent over the basin. To his relief, his physical discomfort was slowly subsiding, but it was being replaced with a new feeling – total confusion.

There was only one thing he could be absolutely certain of. His name was not… _what did she call me…San Gree?_

His name – _my name –_ is Sam Green.

I paused, leaning up against the wall of the corridor. I'd hardly made it more than a dozen steps from the doorway of the bathroom, but I still felt dangerously queasy.

 _Deep breaths, Sam. You've had worse._

I looked down. Something was different, beside the change of clothes. My body felt odd. I took a deep breath, gingerly feeling my torso to identify the source of my discomfort. No part in particular seemed to be causing me any pain – but that did nothing to quell my confusion. I shook my head, trying to clear away the fog. That girl – _Lerona? –_ had mentioned something about being a cadet of sorts. I removed my cap, and examined the badge on the front, then looked down at my uniform. A grey coat and pants to complement the grey cap.

 _"You alright kid? You're not looking too well."_

I looked up with a start, and for a moment, my eyes were unable to locate the source of the voice. Then the wall appeared to move, and I realised that I was being addressed by a figure dressed entirely in white.

 _"Cadet?"_

The word _Stormtrooper_ flashed across my mind, and I jumped upright, one hand moving towards my forehead in a hasty salute. "S-sir?"

The armoured figure chuckled, and slapped me across the shoulder with enough force to threaten my shaky stance. _"No need for that, cadet. Just making sure you were okay."_

 _That voice…not a stormtrooper…a clone?_

 _"You'd best get a move on. I suggest you get to the hangar before your drill instructors see you out here."_

After making sure that I was steady on my feet, the clone turned and continued on down the corridor, oblivious to my bewildered stare.

 _The badge on my cap…a clone trooper…the Republic? Am I dreaming?_

Glancing behind me, I saw a group of uniformed officers approaching the corner, and I quickly pulled my cap back on and began walking away. Soon, the corridor joined onto another passageway, and suddenly I found myself moving amongst a large crowd of clones and other personnel. Despite being only slightly shorter than most of the people I had seen so far, it was almost as if I was invisible, being pushed and jostled in every direction as I tried to move ahead. Up ahead, I saw a flash of grey and white. A group of people dressed in similar uniforms to mine were filing through a large doorway leading off the corridor. The crowd around me had begun to thin, and fearing being caught on my own, I quickened my pace to catch up to them.

The corridor opened up into a cavernous space, with a ceiling that was many stories high. The walls were metal, and the floor was made of a hard, faintly reflective material. The farthest wall appeared to be painted black, but as I stared, I glimpsed a faint twinkle of light. With a quiet gasp, I realised that the wall was some kind of huge window – a window that was looking out into space.

 _This must be some kind of starship..._ The rumble of heavy machinery filled the air, and I watched, awe-struck, as a heavy crane mounted on a track in the ceiling passed overhead. Dangling from the crane was the unmistakable outline of a Republic gunship, and as my eyes followed, it was inserted into a huge rack that dominated one wall of the room. The presence of the ships, the view out into space, and the markings on the floor made it clear that this was some sort of huge hangar bay.

Someone grabbed onto my arm, and yanked me sideways. I looked down in time to catch a glimpse of the surprised face of a uniformed officer before I was being led away, with a familiar voice hissing in my ear.

"Watch where you're walking! You almost hit the drill instructor!"

The girl – _Lerona –_ marched me over to the rear ranks of the cadets, who were standing in a loose formation in the centre of the hangar. Mumbling an apology, I straightened up my uniform and fell into line alongside her.

 _Drill instructor..._ I looked down at my arms, noting the various patches and insignia on my shoulders and the breast pocket of my jacket. No matter the angle I examined them, they were meaningless to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I examined the arm of the cadet next to me, then Lerona's. _Signals cadets…is it just us? The others all have different markings._

I jumped, stirred from my thoughts by the blaring of an alarm. The sound spurred the drill instructor into action and he walked quickly back and forth through the ranks of cadets, barking commands. Lerona stiffened to attention next to me, and I did the same. The eyes of the instructor passed over me, but he said nothing, and as he moved on I turned my head to see what was causing the commotion.

A huge object had appeared outside the 'window' of the hangar, and as I watched, it slowly began to drift through.

 _A ship…some kind of shuttle?_ The design was vaguely familiar, although I couldn't remember the name. A bulky fuselage, three folded wings, and a bulbous cockpit, painted in off-white and red and emblazoned with the Republic emblem. I winced, as did several other cadets, when the engines of the ship passed through the shield, suddenly filling the air with a high-pitched whining sound.

A blast of hot air rushed over the assembled cadets as the shuttle rotated in position, lining up its boarding ramp with the gap in our ranks. Then it descended to the deck, gently touching down on four bulky landing legs. The ramp began to extend from the rear of the shuttle, accompanied by a puff of white gas.

"Cadets…eyes front!"

As the haze cleared, the door opened, and the occupants of the shuttle began to disembark. The cadets around me snapped to attention, and I jumped slightly at the sound of so many booted feet striking the hangar floor in unison. By some stroke of luck, Lerona and I were standing in the last line of cadets, and as the officers looked out across the assembled ranks, none of them appeared to notice my shaky salute.

A fresh wave of nausea swept across me, and I fought to keep down the bile rising in my throat. As I watched the officers proceed slowly through the formation, several doubts vanished from my mind, but they were quickly replaced by new ones. In that moment, I wasn't sure what was more frightening; the knowledge that I had somehow been kidnapped, not only from my own world, but from my own body, and placed within the Galactic Republic – or the fact that I was now sharing a starship with one of the most infamous traitors of the era.


	2. Chapter 2

_Following the initial protocol violation, the secondary suspect departed the communications deck and proceeded to the crew quarters. The primary suspect remained on the deck and proceeded to violate two more broadcast protocols before disconnecting. No other personnel on the bridge responded to the protocol breach, and security procedures were not activated until (SEE INCIDENT REPORT 3F-KR56) occurred at 0900 hours the following day._

\- Excerpt from "Incident Report 3F-KR55", Office of Republic Intelligence.

* * *

"San…"

"It's _Sam._ This name tag, it must…it must have a misprint on it."

Lerona raised an eyebrow. "Alright, _Sam._ I was just going to say that it's good you've got an appetite back. The food here is surprisingly good, for GAR standards."

Lerona Kodd was roughly my age and height, but in contrast to my own milky-white complexion, she was olive-skinned and sported closely cropped black hair. Despite her formal attitude in the presence of superiors, she seemed friendly enough when it was just the two of us, and now that my nausea had largely subsided I was taking the opportunity to get to know her. She and I were seated facing each other on the end of a long metal bench, inside the main mess hall aboard the _Unity._ Mealtimes seemed to operate on a roster, and the cadets got to eat their meals an hour or so before enlisted personnel, leaving the cavernous space largely empty.

I looked down at my tray. Unlike Lerona, who clearly was used to eating this kind of food, I had only been brave enough to try a few scoops of a thick, meaty stew, with a plastic cup of water to go with it.

"So, what do you think about the General? Lucky us, getting our first leadership seminar from a Jedi."

I looked furtively around the mess hall, then leaned in to speak. "Lucky? Wasn't that… _Pong Krell?"_

Lerona frowned. "It's _General_ Krell, and yes, we are lucky to have him aboard. He's one of the most successful frontline commanders in the GAR. I should imagine he knows more than we do about how to be a leader. Why, do you have something against him?"

"No, no, I mean…it's just that I thought…" I trailed off. Other than my general bewilderment about how I had ended up in an entirely new reality, the knowledge that I was now sharing a starship with Jedi Master Pong Krell had been occupying my mind from the moment I had seen him step off the shuttle. Amongst the mostly human crew, Krell cut an imposing figure, a huge four-armed humanoid well over two metres tall. Although it had been a while since I had watched _The Clone Wars,_ the episodes that featured him were very familiar to me.

"From what I've heard, he's meant to teach us a few general principles of leadership, nothing overly specific. Once we're out of here, maybe elsewhere in the Navy, they might be useful to have."

"I thought clones fully staffed these kinds of military ships."

"They do, but throughout the entire Republic, there are probably more ships than clones. Patrol ships, supply ships, troop transports – ordinary officers staff those. People like us. It's probably going to take some extra study, but I hope to enlist back home with the Kuat Sector Defence fleet. I'd be continuing a bit of a family tradition. You?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, I'm not all that sure…"

I glanced towards the other cadets who were sitting in a group at the far end of the bench. Lerona had explained that the patches on their uniforms identified them as gunnery cadets, while the all-female group standing in line at the serving table were in training as shuttle pilots. From what I'd been able to overhear, it seemed as though the cadets stuck with their classmates, although I found it difficult to read their name tags to determine exactly where they were all from.

Language was another thing that had come as a shock. Back home, I had no clue how to read Aurabesh, but so far I was coming to realise that I seemed to have mysteriously gained the ability to do so. Focusing hard on the characters seemed to get me nowhere, but it seemed that simply scanning the words without thinking too hard about them was enough to unconsciously get the meaning. It was as if, deep down, I could read Aurabesh, but only if I didn't overthink it. It occurred to me that I was probably also speaking Basic in same way, as if I was naturally fluent in it. I made a conscious effort to try to speak in English, but I had only just started to speak when I was interrupted by an announcement.

 _"Now hear this. Now hear this. All hands prepare for hyperspace travel."_

I looked around the mess hall, but nobody appeared to be taking any notice. Carefully setting down my cutlery, I took a firm grip on the metal table, and braced myself for what I assumed would be violent acceleration.

"What are you doing now?"

"Didn't you hear that warning?"

Suddenly, there was a rumbling sound from somewhere beneath my feet. I closed my eyes, and for a second I thought I could see a bright light at the edge of my vision. Then there was a muffled thump, and silence. As the ambient noise of the starship returned, I gingerly opened my eyes to see Lerona looking at me.

"…Was that it?"

"That's hyperspace travel. Drama holos like to show everyone getting crushed against acceleration couches, but I guess the GAR doesn't have time for that kind of fun stuff."

Embarrassed, I tried to hide my blush by taking a drink from my cup. The water was unpleasantly processed, with a strange recycled aftertaste. Unfortunately, when I looked up, Lerona was still looking at me.

"You act as if you've never been beyond your homeworld before, yet you are part way through your final year before graduating as a Signals Officer. How did that happen?"

I shrugged, but internally I knew that the Republic probably had some fairly harsh laws about impersonating personnel on military vessels. Until I could get my bearings and find out what exactly I was doing, I needed a cover story.

"Yeah, well…you're right about a few of those things. This is one of my first times offworld, and I've only ever been flying a handful of times in my life. My family, they live out in the…ah…rural parts of Correllia…the Academy mostly trained us on simulators."

Luckily, my mention of simulators prompted an anecdote from Lerona, and although I only understood a small amount of what she was talking about, I was able to laugh and nod appropriately up until when the bell rang to signal the end of the meal.

* * *

Following the meal, Lerona and I headed back to the dormitory. When we arrived, the room was empty, as all the other cadets were heading out on their evening shifts. Lerona went straight in, but I took the opportunity to duck back into the communal washroom. Now that I was feeling a little more human again, I decided I wanted to get a better look at myself. Inside, there was no evidence that a violent medical episode had taken place mere hours ago. _Unlike most plane toilets…_

I leaned in close to the mirror, running my hands across my face and muttering to myself. "How in the…what the hell am I doing here?"

 _Midnight outside the nightclub. I'm standing at the bottom of the narrow staircase, a girl on one arm and one of my mates in my ear, although the rumble of the bass inside makes him difficult to understand. Then I'm moving up the stairs. The bouncer, a big guy with a tattoo covering half his face, puts his hand out to stop me. He has to repeat himself a few times before I understand what he's saying…_

 _Then my legs give way, and his little push sends me flying. I don't remember what happened next, only that I never touched the ground._

From what I'd seen in the mirror, my facial features were unchanged, save for a closely-cropped military haircut that had eliminated my usual beard and untidy fringe. The rest of my body, however, felt… _fitter_. I had always been somewhat underweight for my age, but this wasn't fat. I always preferred running to lifting weights, but now I felt as though my muscle tone had improved across my entire frame. It was as if my mind had been placed in an improved version of my body – at least, one that spent all its free time at the gym instead of sitting in front of a computer screen.

 _Weird…_ It was as if, in addition to receiving a language course, my body had also been hard at work building muscle without any conscious input on my part. As I stood there, examining myself in the mirror, it dawned on me that perhaps today was not my first day in this universe, but rather my _mind's_ first day. Whoever 'San Gree' was, up until this time yesterday he had been in my place, a legitimate Signals Cadet in the Republic Navy.

Giving myself one last look over, I headed back into the dormitory. Lerona and I appeared to be sharing a bunk bed, with me on the lower bed. There was a locker next to my bunk, the door of which was locked with a keypad. Knowing that Lerona was watching, I knew I had to at least attempt to be familiar with my possessions.

 _Don't think about it._ I exhaled, and let my hand drift over the keypad. In a practiced motion, my fingers tapped the top left key three times, and the lock clicked open.

"Three zeroes? That's not exactly secure."

I laughed at Lerona's comment, relieved that 'San Gree' clearly shared my imaginative side.

The locker was narrow but surprisingly deep. A clean coat hung from a rack on the door, and inside the space was divided up by shelving. I crouched down, and examined the contents. A brush, a can of something that smelt like boot polish, and an electronic tablet plugged into a charging socket sat on the top shelf. At the bottom of the locker was a small suitcase, with a hard plastic outer shell. I felt for the latch, and opened it. A folded collared shirt. A pair of cream chinos. Socks, underwear, and two black loafers. Picking up the shirt, I lifted it up to my face and took a deep breath. It smelled of sweat, aftershave and alcohol.

 _My shirt…my shoes…I was wearing these when I fell down that night. How did they get here?_

A faint white glow was visible from underneath the pile of clothes. I felt around in the pocket of my chinos, and drew out a small object, a sleek smartphone in a black rubber case. As my fingers closed around it, the screen lit up with a notification. _One missed call…how in the-_

"Sam, do you know what time we're supposed to meet our instructor? It might be on your datapad, I couldn't see anything on mine."

I hastily tossed the phone back into the suitcase and stood up, nearly hitting my head on the top of the locker as I did. "Don't know, I'll…I'll check."

I picked up the tablet and set it down on my bunk, kicking the locker shut behind me. Hoping that Lerona missed the guilty look on my face, I set to work trying to decipher the user interface on the datapad. Eventually, I figured out that there was a thumbprint scanner on the side of the device. For around a minute, I tapped at various icons and fiddled with the buttons, occasionally calling up a window with the date – but the numbers were meaningless. Finally, my tapping called up a rolling news ticker. At first, the words scrolled by on the screen too fast for my brain to keep up, but eventually I discovered that tapping on the Aurabesh enlarged the text and slowed it down.

 _…PEACE IN OUR TIME? REPUBLIC SENATORS WILLING TO NEGOTIATE WITH SEPARATISTS TO END CONFLICT…_

"Any luck?"

"Uh…during our first shift, apparently."

Lerona went back to arranging some items in her locker, and I returned my attention to the news ticker, trying to fit the headlines with my knowledge of where I was.

 _What about Krell? The invasion of that planet…Umbara, that was it…that definitely hasn't happened yet. He turned against the Republic a good while before then, that's for sure._

From what I could remember, the whole business on Umbara took place midway through the war, around the third or fourth seasons of _The Clone Wars._ As far as giving me a frame of reference, that information was useless.

There was a knock at the door. Lerona snapped to attention next to her bunk, and I jumped upright, only getting into position just in time as the door opened to reveal one of our drill instructors.

"Cadet Gree. Cadet Kodd. Your shift on the bridge starts in ten minutes."


	3. Chapter 3

_The final topic covered in your officer training studies will be leadership, and will consist of a guest lecture by a senior Republic officer, as well as four weeks of theory classes. This topic has no specific assessment task, although it will cover information that will form an important part of your final examinations._

\- "Leadership and Morale", _Republic Navy Cadet Course Guide,_ ch.18, p.3990

* * *

After spending ten minutes fighting our way through the crowds of personnel that clogged the hallways of the _Unity_ during shift changes, Lerona and I reached the turbolifts at the base of the bridge tower. Like other "Star Destroyer" style vessels, the bridge of the _Unity_ was mounted on a short, stout tower towards the stern.

The doors closed, and the turbolift started up. Lerona began checking her uniform over, making tiny adjustments to her clothing, while I nervously scanned the relevant pages of notes on communications protocol that I had found pre-loaded into my datapad.

"How do I look?"

"…Fine, yeah. You look fine. Um, am I-"

"Fine." Lerona gave a small smile, and I returned it. Although I was probably doing little to earn her trust, she was at least still treating me with civility. _For now, at least. I wonder how much longer she'll be willing to put up with my mistakes..._

Then the doors to the turbolift sprang open, and we stepped out onto the bridge. The room was shaped like a wedge, much like the ship itself. The central space featured two pits filled with equipment, and a central walkway for officers over them. Perhaps the most striking detail of all was the lighting. The windows that lined the bridge looked out onto a tunnel of white and blue light, bathing the bridge with an almost supernatural glow. For a moment, I was hypnotised by the shimmering pattern.

"Cadets."

This was my first time seeing a helmet-less clone trooper up close. Indeed, most of the clones on the bridge wore grey uniforms similar to mine, rather than armour. Tall, athletic, and a near carbon-copy of Temuera Morrison, although the actor's name escaped me at that particular moment. Looking around, I noticed a few more cadets being introduced to their mentors at various other stations.

Lerona executed a crisp salute, and I did my best to imitate her.

"Sir!"

"At ease. Your names?"

"Cadet Kodd, sir. And this is Cadet Gree."

The clone trooper nodded. "Good to meet you. My designation is CT-3951, and I'm the officer in charge of shipboard communications. If you'll follow me…"

The clone saluted an officer standing nearby, then ushered us away towards the rear of the bridge. Another group of cadets who looked to be training as navigators were descending into the command pits as we passed.

"Pardon me, CT…sir, do you mind me asking what rank you hold?"

"Lieutenant, Cadet Kodd. And don't worry about my designation. The number can be a little tricky to remember at times, so I won't mind if you call me…Squawk. Little nickname of mine that I got for fiddling with radios all the time back at the Academy."

The walkway of the bridge was crowded with officers, but as we passed I caught a glimpse of a man I presumed was the captain, sporting complicated personal decorations.

"First time on the bridge of a Republic warship?"

"Not for me, sir." Lerona confidently strode ahead of me, meeting Squawk's gaze. "I've lived on stations where these vessels are manufactured. My family have worked with starships for generations."

"Oh, so you're from Kuat? Interesting… and where are you from, Cadet Gree?"

"Me? Oh, Corellia."

"Really? That's a bit of an accent you've got there. Are you sure you're not from Mandalore?"

 _Shit…am I speaking Basic with an Australian accent?_

"Ah…second generation…my grandparents were from Mandalore. Looked after me quite a lot when I was younger."

Squawk seemed to accept this. "That explains it…come to think of it, I'm sure I've met another clone named Gree…here we are. Main comms array."

With the clone leading the way, we descended a flight of stairs and entered a small room behind the main bridge. A number of oversized control panels, covered with buttons and display screens, took up most of the space, along with three stools.

"No doubt you're familiar with the standard layout of a comms booth, but there are a few features that are unique to this type of ship."

I nodded cautiously, hoping that he wasn't about to turn his statement into a technical question.

"Of course, being a military vessel, we have to be careful about what we broadcast. There are transmitters all over the hull, to allow each section to broadcast without clogging up the network. However, if we wanted to take the ship closer to enemy space, all communications must be on the encrypted band." Squawk pointed to a switch protected by a transparent cover on the top of the panel. "Flipping that switch will disable all the hull transmitters, and route communications through the main array. This station is for monitoring incoming traffic, and your station, Cadet Kodd, is for outbound signals."

It took a few minutes, but I slowly began to get the hang of it. Monitoring inbound traffic was fairly simple, requiring me to match signals with their receiving transmitters. The display on my console informed me of the origin of the signals, their wavelength, and their priority on the network. For four hours, Lerona and I worked the communications monitoring station on the bridge of the _Unity,_ with Squawk keeping a careful eye on our every move. The first hour or two were stressful, but by the time the shift had come to an end, whatever unconscious knowledge that was enabling my speech and my reading skills also turned out to include some training in Republic communications protocol, and despite my conscious mind often getting in the way, I eventually settled into a rhythm. Lerona, on the other hand, performed flawlessly. The only errors she made were almost all the result of my own mistakes, and in such situations, Squawk was quick to jump in and correct the error.

"Are you picking that one up?"

Squawk spoke up from his desk behind me. "Protocol, Cadet Gree."

"Yes, sir. Could you confirm the origin of this signal, Cadet Kodd? It seems to be occupying a sizeable portion of network space."

"Hold it, Cadets. See what tag the system has given that signal?"

I squinted at the Aurabesh. "Priority…"

"Priority one, Cadet Gree. That signal is for General Krell, and to be given highest priority on the network."

I blanched at the mention of the Jedi. Sensing my hesitation, Squawk leaned over my shoulder and keyed in the necessary information. On the display, a green line was traced between Krell's quarters and the main signal array, and a message scrolled by declaring the connection secure.

"Alright, that will do for tonight. Gree, I expect you to have refreshed your knowledge of on-bridge communication protocol by this time tomorrow, but other than that, good work considering it was your first time. I look forward to working with you again over the next few days. Dismissed."

Lerona and I walked back to the turbolifts from the communications booth, passing by the command pits where other cadets were still receiving instruction.

Waiting until the turbolift had started down, I let out a sigh of relief, pulling my cap off and fanning my face.

"Whew. Can't wait to get off my feet. Listen, Lerona-"

Lerona looked across at me, tapping on the bulky watch on her wrist.

"…Krell's lecture?"

 _Shit._

* * *

I'd always had trouble keeping my eyes open during lectures, particularly when I'd hardly slept the previous night.

"An army that lacks strong leadership is as good as useless on the battlefield. As a leader, it can be important to build a strong bond with your subordinates, yet the real challenge is knowing how to balance this bond against the realities of warfare."

By this point, I had lost all track of time. It felt like a lifetime ago that I was hunched over a basin in the washroom of the _Unity,_ and standing, shivering, in the hangar bay. Beyond that, life back on Earth felt like a distant dream. _How long has it been? Is time still passing for everyone else back home?_

"A good leader knows to have confidence in his or her strategies. Indecision can poison entire armies, and doom them to fail long before they take to the field."

 _Maybe I died that night...if so, is this meant to be the afterlife?_

"A good leader must be attentive. They must know when to listen…"

 _A coma seems more likely. Maybe I'll start seeing people waving signs that say 'wake up'._

"…and when not to listen. Am I correct, Cadet?"

The sudden silence in the lecture theatre snapped me back to reality, as I remembered who I was sharing a room with.

Lerona, myself and two dozen other cadets were seated inside a small lecture theatre somewhere near the bow of the _Unity._ According to our textbooks, this was the scheduled "leadership" portion of the semester, and the final topic covered before our graduation exams.

Jedi Master Pong Krell was standing at a raised podium at the front of the theatre, with a slideshow of diagrams and images that I could make little sense of running in the background. The four-armed Jedi, despite having already repeated the lecture twice to other groups of cadets, seemed to be full of enthusiasm for the topic, describing in great detail about how his adherence to tried and tested strategies, as well as unwavering loyalty on the part of his troops, had won key engagements both before and during the Clone Wars.

As adrenaline flooded my system, I realised that Krell was looking past me at someone else.

"I…sorry, but I…"

Krell flashed the hapless gunnery cadet a toothy grin. "You are providing an excellent example of what I was just talking about. Sometimes, your subordinates may fail to grasp the nuances of your overall strategy. It is important to address their concerns, but only up to a point. After that, you must simply press on. Shut them out, stop listening."

"Yes, General Krell."

"Good. As I can see you have grasped the first part of the lesson, you can move on to the second part." Krell's smile grew wider. "Discipline. Report to the mess hall for punishment detail following this class. Your name, cadet?"

"Sir-"

Before the cadet could finish his sentence, Krell thrust out one of his hands, and something small and silver flew over my head in his direction.

 _Did he just…that was the Force!_

Krell caught the identification card in his hand, and held it up before the stunned audience. "Thank you, Cadet Welo, I will forward your details to your commanding officer. Class dismissed!"

I hardly remember much about the walk back to the dormitory. Lerona was talking to me and a female navigation cadet about grades, but nothing they said was sticking inside my already overcrowded memory. In the space of twenty-four hours, I'd awoken in a reality I'd assumed was fictional, experienced hyperspace travel, been forced to learn complicated military procedures on the fly, and witnessed a four-armed alien use telekinesis – fuelled only by a glass of water and a few bites of an unidentifiable stew.

It was a tall order to remember to fold my uniform up as neatly as I could, before I passed out, only partially tucked into my narrow bunk bed. I never thought to re-engage the passcode on my locker – or check the voicemail on my phone to see who had been calling me from another universe.


	4. Chapter 4

A further security measure that has been recommended by the Republic Signals Corps is the restriction of the use of all 'signal-splitter' devices to officers only, and to post additional physical security inside the communications areas of all Republic vessels in order to prevent serious protocol breaches as occurred during Incident 3F-KR55.

\- Excerpt from "Incident Report 3F-KR55", Office of Republic Intelligence.

* * *

"I have…an incoming signal, Lieutenant. Priority One."

"Orders from Coruscant. Scoot across a little, cadets, I'd better show you our long-distance procedures."

Lerona and I stood up from our consoles in the communications booth to allow Squawk, our clone supervisor, access to the controls. So far, I was finding this shift a little smoother, and a combination of a decent night's sleep and a surprisingly good breakfast in the mess hall was making it easier to grasp the basics.

"You might not have seen one of these before." Squawk lifted the lid on a box mounted on the wall, and ran a hand over the machine underneath, a device which in my mind resembled a photocopier and a radio mixed together. "This is a signal splitter. Important standardised communications from across the Republic are transmitted along with what we call splitting keys. We're a long way away from Coruscant, and hyperspace is bound to introduce some interference into the system. So, the signal splitter applies the splitting key unique to the sender of the message – in this case, GAR Logistics Command – and the machine will do its best to filter out any interference that might have gotten into the message. Not that useful over short distances, but the further into the Outer Rim we get, the more reliant we are on it for accurate messages. Any questions?"

Lerona, being a capable student, had none, and I didn't dare ask any for fear of further exposing my ignorance, so Squawk returned to his station and ran the message through the signal splitter, and we resumed our monitoring of incoming and outgoing communication traffic. Before I sat down, I bent back my arms and cracked my knuckles, still feeling the burn from an intense physical training session after breakfast that morning.

As I sat down and adjusted my headset, I became aware of an orange light pulsing on my console _. There it is again._ This was only the third time I had been working the communications booth, but I was already seeing a pattern emerging. A quick glance at the bulky watch or 'chronometer' on my wrist confirmed it; another High Priority message for Jedi Master Pong Krell, right on queue. _Same time, same sender…what could be so important?_

I snuck a glance over my shoulder. Squawk was up from his desk, and Lerona was busying herself with a console on the far side of the room.

I felt nervous, of course. I'd felt nervous for the last three days straight, going from one totally alien situation to another without time to pause for breath – but this was different. If Krell had turned traitor already, I could make a major impact on what I knew about the future of the universe. On the other hand, making a mistake could prove fatal. I didn't know for sure _why_ I had ended up here, in a fictional universe and a body that wasn't quite my own – but by this point, I had resolved that I had to at least try to put my knowledge of future events to good use. One of the first things that had come to mind when I had calmed down enough to realise where I had ended up was to simply blurt out everything I knew to the nearest authority figure, but after a little bit of thought I had decided that would be a highly risky strategy. Most likely, my ramblings about the entire Senate being controlled by a Sith Lord would get me thrown in some mental institution, or worse, Order 66 might be enacted the very next day, and I could wind up being gunned down by trigger-happy clones searching for dissidents.

A more careful approach was the only way forward, I had decided.

 _Krell is the key. Whoever…or whatever brought me here, with everything I know, has put me on this ship for a reason. If I can get some proof that Krell has turned against the Republic…then I could get in contact with the Jedi!_

I took a deep breath, and selected the priority signal. Instantly, my headset was filled with a hiss of static, punctuated by a computerised voice speaking in halting Basic.

 _"08KT…S12…33'2'…09KT…S22…"_

My datapad was hidden under the desk, and I clumsily tried to note down a few of the more distinctive sounding codes. There seemed to be a loose pattern to the numbers, and the voice was repeating them clearly over the background static. Despite the console not giving a broadcasting location for the signal, judging by the amount of interference it must be from somewhere decently far away. I thought of the manuals that were stored on my datapad – codes like these would surely be referred to somewhere within them.

"Sam, I need those…what are you…?"

"Lerona! I'm…just taking note of these comm codes…I've been looking for a good example to put in my notes…I don't find the ones in the textbook all that informative."

"Which ones?" Lerona squinted at my console screen as I hurriedly selected another broadcasting signal. My bunkmate looked around, then leaned in close and pushed the datapad down into my lap.

"Whatever…just don't let any of the others see you doing it. What was acceptable in your simulator back on Corellia may breach military protocol out here." Seeing Squawk approach, Lerona quickly straightened up and sat at her console, while I quickly tossed the device onto the thick matting underneath my chair.

"Sorry to interrupt, Cadets. Your commanding officer wants to see you both in his office…regarding a disciplinary matter."

* * *

"Would you care to explain what this device is, Cadet Gree? Another cadet in your dormitory heard it emitting a noise during the afternoon, and found it inside your unlocked locker."

Out of the corner of her eye, Lerona watched as Sam's normally pale face grew whiter, as Lieutenant Knour, the officer in charge of managing the cadet contingent aboard the _Unity,_ held up a palm-sized electronic device, smaller than a datapad, and encased in a plastic sleeve.

"That…device? Well, it's…"

"I'll reiterate. Is it a personal device, a necessary piece of duty equipment, or something else entirely?" Slowly, the officer flicked through a document on his datapad, before indicating a specific line of text with his finger. "As stated in your code of practice document – one of the first training manuals you would have received during your time in the Academy – "no personal electronic effects are to be taken with Cadets on active rotation, and at no time are Cadets to be in possession of a personal communicator, with the exception of the standard-issue electronic chronometer which can only contact other personnel."

Sam made no attempt to reply, and simply hung his head in resignation.

"What about you, Cadet Kodd? Were you aware that Cadet Gree, your bunkmate, had this device in his possession?"

"No sir. I was not."

"You never saw him using it?"

"No."

Suddenly, Lerona heard the door to the office open behind them. Lieutenant Knour did a double take as someone entered the room, bolting upright from his seat and hurrying around behind the cadets.

"Sir…Lieutenant Knour, 193rd Naval Training Detachment. I understand that you wanted to sit in on a few administrative cases today, General?"

The voice that answered him was a familiar booming baritone that Lerona instantly recognised.

"Thank you, Lieutenant, I have been fully briefed on you and the case you are currently deliberating over. These are the pair, correct?"

 _General Krell!_

"Yes General. Cadet Gree…he seems to accept he was at fault for bringing the contraband aboard, while Cadet Kodd claims she had no knowledge of the device."

For a moment, the two cadets stood silently at attention as Krell paced up and down behind them. When he spoke, it was in a guttural growl that made the hair on the back of Lerona's neck stand on end.

"Every second spent deliberating on this issue is time wasted elsewhere, Lieutenant." Krell paused as he passed in front of Sam, and he frowned. "I've heard enough. Your verdict?"

"I'm not sure yet, General Krell."

"Very well, I will hasten the process. Issue demerit points, Lieutenant." Krell said. "For _both_ of them."

Lerona's heart leapt. _What…he can't do that!_

"Sir, I-"

"Unit cohesion, Cadet Kodd. It should have been you who corrected your fellow cadet on his behaviour, and you will be punished for it accordingly. Inattention is no excuse, and there are to be no exceptions, certainly not this close to your graduation."

For the next few minutes, Lerona was forced to remain standing rigidly at attention as Krell moved to the office next door, and the Lieutenant filled out an incident report form before issuing Sam with a token for punishment duty and dismissing them. Almost as soon as the door had closed behind them, Sam began to talk. Whether it was a complaint, an exclamation of grief, or maybe even a sincere apology, Lerona didn't care, as she cut him off by shoving him back against the wall of the corridor. Then, before he even had time to look more surprised than usual, Lerona Kodd put her face within centimetres of Sam's, and began to _yell._

"Look, Lerona…I know that-"

"Do you think this is some kind of _joke_? This isn't first year, this is graduation! They're watching our every move, and you think it's a good idea to bring a communicator on board? I've heard that General Krell's had clone troopers _shot_ for security breaches less than that. And he even gives us both _demerit points!_ Those are _permanent!_ "

Sam shrank back against the wall as several cadets who were walking past stopped and stared. Lerona ignored them.

"I'm _done_ covering for you. You want to act like an idiot who doesn't know his left hand from a _kriffing_ procedure manual, go right ahead. The instructors can smell weakness a mile off, and they'll have you out of here a soon as you slip up again. I'm still your bunkmate, and I'm still working the evening shift with you – but outside that, you're on your own. Have fun with punishment duty."

Turning sharply on one heel, Lerona Kodd disappeared into the throng of personnel passing by, leaving behind a small circle of confused onlookers, with one shell-shocked cadet still slumped against the wall.


	5. Chapter 5

_The large tail fin mounted between the engine nacelles not only aids in-atmosphere flight and stability, but also houses the main sensor and communications arrays, as well as the dedicated power supply system._

\- "Acclamator-Class", _Republic Fleet Identification Manual, vol.30, p.9443_

* * *

 _Look, Lerona…no, no, she's not the one that needs to explain herself, I am!_

On the morning of the fifth day, I got up as early as I could, hoping to find somewhere on the ship where I could do some studying in peace. Head down, I hustled through the corridors of the _Unity,_ my datapad and a few other implements tucked under my arm. I'd seen other cadets using bulky terminals positioned around the common room area and dormitories for study – but I didn't want to risk anyone looking over my shoulder, or logging into the network and seeing exactly what I was "studying". As I walked, dodging droids and clone troopers as I went, I continued rehearsing imaginary conversations.

 _I promise I'll try harder to…to…no, I wouldn't know where to begin with that one._

One particular moment from that meeting with Krell was stuck firmly in my mind. Lerona had been _incandescent_ with rage. Not only had I brought her under suspicion as my bunkmate, but as a result of Krell's punitive logic she too had been punished with demerit points. I knew I wouldn't have much of a chance of making it in any exam or assignment, so the points mattered little to me – they were, however, _everything_ to my classmate.

 _Lucky her, forced to babysit the first cadet to make it to graduation year without being able to read properly. Surprised she didn't hit me, although she probably didn't need to – I got the message, loud and clear._

Seating myself on a comfy bench near the back wall of the mess hall, I pulled out my datapad and set to work. It took me just a few seconds to remember how to open it – an improvement from the several clumsy minutes it had taken me a few days ago – and I brought up the file which contained my hastily typed notes from the previous night.

Despite being in a relatively quiet area on the ship, I was constantly distracted by simple things. Two helmetless clones walked by, and I couldn't help but stare, and I nearly jumped out of my seat when a bulbous droid attempted to move my feet out of the way so it could clean underneath the bench. Even the ambient noise generated by the _Unity,_ from the distant chime of notification messages, to the now familiar rumble of the engines, was enough to give me pause. Five days on, and the knowledge that I was onboard a fictional starship, travelling through a fictional galaxy to take part in a fictional war had still not fully sunk in. To top it all off, my few personal belongings had been confiscated. Not just my smartphone, but my clothes and the little suitcase they had all been packed in. A frustrated sigh escaped my lips as I remembered the message that I had forgotten to check.

Eventually, my finger landed on a particular chapter title – _Weather Information._

 _Transmitted with a standardised code…relayed through automated buoys, providing details on wind speed, cloud cover and temperature on a daily basis for strategically important planets, and on request for remote, uninhabited or even non-aligned worlds._ I looked back at my notes, and felt a thrill as I lined up the code I recorded with the one in the textbook. _A perfect match! Wind speed, cloud cover and temperature data…Krell is receiving an automated weather report every evening._

I continued to laboriously scan the pages, and as I did, my feelings of triumph were replaced with ones of confusion. According to the textbook, not only were _hundreds of thousands_ of these automated reports generated every day, but they were also freely available on all military channels. At any time, a clone trooper could request an abbreviated report to be broadcast to his heads-up display, or an officer could tune in to the live, rolling coverage from a buoy – _like Krell is doing. He tunes into a buoy, receives data for a few minutes, then shuts off. Why go to so much trouble using a priority broadcast channel when any trooper could get the same information in seconds on a lower security channel? And just where did this one come from?_

At the thought of Krell, my mind started to wander again. His booming, powerful voice, and his use of the Force to snatch an ID card from a cadet in the lecture hall.

 _What about the Force? How would I know if I had those powers? Shit, I should have given it a go as soon as I got here!_

I looked around for something to test, eventually settling on the small glass of water I'd brought over from the galley. Glancing up, I confirmed that no one was watching me. I set the datapad down on the bench, screwed my eyes shut, and threw my hand out in my best impression of a Jedi. At first, I heard nothing over my sharp intake of breath. Then, after a few seconds of straining, I thought I felt movement ahead of me, and the sound of the glass being scraped against the metal tabletop. I opened my eyes, heart pounding, expecting to see the glass hovering above me…

 _The Force! Holy shit…I can actually do this stuff! What if-_

…only to see that it was being held in the claws of a serving droid. Seeing my outstretched hand, it cocked its head to one side.

 _"Are you finished with your cup, sir?"_

* * *

Over the course of four hours, I had experienced the main communications array from the inside, performing routine checks on various components, while it was still switched on. The checks amounted to little more than taking pictures of circuits and making sure everything was still attached correctly, but it was still an exhausting and time-consuming process. There was probably a droid that could do the job in a fraction of the time, but the interference generated by the powerful main array meant that the job had to be done by crewmen in insulated suits – or so the officers in charge of the Punishment Detail told us. A group of clones, some other cadets from unfamiliar disciplines, and myself, were made to crawl through narrow alcoves in heavy suits, while the air around us crackled with electrical discharges from exposed circuitry.

It was a stroke of luck that Squawk was feeling lenient that night. Lerona could be trusted to manage her station without much help, so the clone was free to help out at my station. By the time I finished my shift, I was physically and mentally shattered.

"You are dismissed, Cadet Kodd. See you tomorrow."

Lerona saluted, carefully avoiding eye contact with me as she did, before hurrying away in the direction of the lifts. I gathered up a few belongings, and turned to leave – but Squawk's parting remarks brought me up short.

"I didn't know that cadets had to know anything about the Weather Relay Network. That stuff is usually left to droids."

I paused mid stride. "I'm sorry, sir?"

"You were studying your notes very carefully in the mess hall this morning. I just thought it was an unusual choice of topic."

My mind raced. _How in the..._

"Sir, I don't know what…"

"Zygerria. The broadcast code is from Zygerria, 03-22-71."

"…you're talking about." I trailed off. "You can tell just from looking at it?"

"A good memory is an important feature to select for when breeding comms officers." Squawk tapped his head. "I can recognise a few thousand of the more important ones off the top of my head, and probably a few more if I was given a minute to think."

There was a long silence. For a second, I felt like blurting out my suspicions about the Jedi, hoping that Squawk would back me up, but I decided against it when I saw the look on his face quickly change back to one of stern disapproval.

"You do realise the kind of punishment you'd be looking at if it was discovered you'd been snooping on the General's private communications?"

I didn't, but Squawk's tone of voice told me everything I needed to know.

"That's right. To date, I've _never_ had it occur on my watch – and I don't plan on letting it occur any time soon. Got it?" Squawk clenched his jaw. "Cadet Gree. You are dismissed."


	6. Chapter 6

"… _coming to you live from the scene of the blast at the Central Power Distribution Grid, within view of the Senate building. Authorities tell us that security footage shows three Department of Sanitation cleaning droids arriving at the entrance to the grid outside of their normal schedule, and these missing droids are now considered the prime suspects in what was clearly a coordinated attack. Residents across the local area have been reporting severe power disruptions affecting both upper and lower levels, and the authorities have been unable to give a definite answer as to when that service will be restored…One thing, however, is certain; this attack was a calculated move by the Separatist rebels to disrupt the peace process that would bring this civil war to an end."_

\- Holonet news broadcast

* * *

Of all the places aboard the _Unity,_ my favourite place was inside my bunk. At night, privacy screens folded down from the upper bunk and the ceiling of the dormitory, sealing every cadet in their own sleeping pod and temporarily shutting out rest of the ship. For a little while, at least, I could have a moment to pause and reflect on the million different things that had baffled and confused me during the day, before drifting off to sleep.

Tonight, however, I was wide awake. My fifth day in this new universe had left me shattered, topped off with punishment duty and an unusual chat with a commanding officer. I couldn't sleep, so instead I was playing around with my datapad in an effort to gather more information. The news sites I managed to find using the "holonet" were surprisingly similar to the sites I read back at home on Earth, in that their formatting and layout was _atrocious_. With my reading as bad as it was, I found it difficult to slowly scan the headlines as flashing popups crowded the screen. The first few articles centred around sports – including the Boonta Eve Classic podrace, weirdly enough – but I flicked through those to reach the current affairs section.

 _SEPARATIST BOMBING DISRUPTS PEACE TALKS_

 _An extraordinary session of the Republic Senate, convened to discuss peace terms with the so-called Confederacy of Independent Systems, was interrupted today following suspected acts of sabotage at several power facilities on Coruscant, briefly plunging large areas of the planet into darkness._

I leaned back on my bunk, trying to fit the information with what I already knew. _Those peace talks…an extraordinary session…didn't that happen somewhere around Season Three? Now I remember, it was that episode with the cleaning droids in the power station! Finally, a point of reference!_

Now I knew a few more things about my situation. I still had a year or two before Order 66 and the rise of the Empire, so if I wanted to try to get in contact with the Jedi I had ample time to do so. Then the 'roof' of my bunk creaked, and I remembered who was lying on the mattress above me.

 _Lerona. I have to talk to her tomorrow._ I sighed. _She's still going to be pissed, isn't she._

* * *

"Lerona-"

"I don't want to hear it."

 _Yeah, she's still pissed._ I had finally managed to corner Lerona Kodd at breakfast on the morning of the sixth day, forgoing my own place in the queue for the serving table in order to sit next to her.

"Lerona, Lerona. I get it. It's all my fault, I'm an idiot, and I fully deserve to fail. Happy?"

My bunkmate gave a humourless laugh. "Should have been a bit more honest with yourself before you decided to leave Corellia. What do you want, a medal?"

"I…I want you to hear me out."

"Denied." Lerona continued to bolt down her food, clearly intending to rush off as soon as she was finished eating.

"Lerona…"

"Like I said, I don't want to hear it." As the last morsel of food disappeared from her tray, Lerona stood and made to leave.

"…I found a way to get your demerit points taken back."

 _That got her attention._ Lerona paused mid-stride, and I took the opportunity to stand up.

"C'mon, walk with me and I'll tell you my plan." Somewhat reluctantly, Lerona followed me as we walked out of the mess hall, and into a side corridor that was relatively empty of people.

"General Krell. What do you think of him?"

Lerona sighed. "He…he's a Jedi, and he commands the respect of a lot of people in the GAR."

"Come on. I saw you in that office. You seemed pretty pissed off to me, and it wasn't just about me and my phone, sorry, _communicator_. Krell didn't have to give you those demerit points."

"What does this have to do with getting those demerit points revoked?"

"As far as I understand it, if you and I could prove that Krell was up to no good at the time he gave the punishment, then that and any other orders he issued at the time would be ruled invalid…I think."

A bemused expression passed over Lerona's face, and she scoffed. "What kind of a plan is that? Sam, Krell is a Jedi! He's the _last_ person on this ship who would be breaking protocol like that."

"Just think about it. If he was, there's no way you wouldn't get those points revoked. Hell, anyone he'd disciplined while he was aboard would get their punishments overturned."

"And if he's not doing anything wrong? Does your plan take that into account, seeing as it's the most likely scenario?"

I stopped in the empty corridor and leaned up against the wall. "Yeah. If things go wrong…blame it on me."

Lerona gave another laugh, but this time with some genuine humour behind it. "I already have been."

"Not like that. If you get pulled in front of an officer or anyone else, just say I _forced_ you to do it."

 _Believe me, I don't care about incurring a few more demerit points._

A mental image of me attempting to force the muscular young woman to do something must have popped into her head, and she snorted. "I doubt they'd believe that."

"There's more. I've been talking to Squawk. He…he agrees with me. He said there was something suspicious about those transmissions Krell has been receiving. You know the ones I mean."

 _Ok, that was a lie, but appeals to authority are the only way to get this whole plan to work out._

Lerona looked up and down the corridor, then back to me. She bit her lip, inhaled and uncrossed her arms. "Alright. I agree, it does seem a little suspicious. What are we going to do about it?"

I reached behind my back, and pulled out my trusty datapad. On the screen was a starmap, with a glowing line threading between the planets.

"See that line? That's our present course." I pointed to a glowing white dot a few centimetres away from the line. "That's where the transmissions have been coming from. Zygerria."

Lerona frowned. "So?"

"If it's coming from the galactic equivalent of next door, why does every transmission have so much static? I thought we had devices that could filter that stuff out."

"The signal splitters…yeah, you're right. That does seem odd."

"You're the expert here. Could Krell be receiving some kind of secret message?"

Lerona now looked even more concerned. "Sending…and receiving. I didn't think too much into it last time we were on deck…but at the same time those transmissions were going out, Krell was broadcasting something. Not much, and they hardly showed up on the main array, but there was definitely something going back out. I'll check the broadcast history on my console during the next shift."

As she spoke, my mind was already racing ahead, considering just who Krell would be talking to.

 _Separatists. Has to be. But Zygerria is neutral, according to this map. What about…_ An image of Anakin Skywalker, dressed in a slave's tunic, flashed across my mind. _Dooku! He was on Zygerria in that episode…could Krell be contacting him…_

"Well?" Lerona's voice dragged me back to the present.

"Uh…I don't know who he'd be talking to, but I'm sure there are some other people in the Republic who'd like to know. There's got to be some kind of intelligence agency that handles this kind of stuff, right?"

Lerona nodded. "The Office of Republic Intelligence. Specifically, their Naval Intelligence Division. Every internal matter on a ship like this is their business."

"Okay. We'll get in contact with them."

We started walking again, and as we did Lerona seemed to have second thoughts. "This is crazy. Where do we even start? And if we get caught… _kriff._ "

"I know, but remember what I said. If we do get caught, say I forced you to do it. If you mentioned the communicator incident as well, they'll be bound to let you off the hook. And remember, it wasn't just me who…um, fucked you over. Krell did too."

Lerona looked confused.

 _Why didn't that word translate?_ "Fine, _kriffed_ you over. Are you with me?"


	7. Chapter 7

" _Supplies at rendezvous point are as follows: One (1) month (GS) of K-Class Rations, seven (7) months (GS) of A-Class Rations, three hundred (300) assorted starfighter astromechs…Forward requisition requests to Republic Fleet Logistics, Outer Rim Command. Advise on message receipt."_

\- Fragment of message received from Republic Fleet Logistics prior to Incident 3F-KR55

* * *

"Cadet Gree, incoming signal from Republic Logistics, Priority Two."

"…Understood, Cadet Kodd. Republic Logistics…patched through to the Quartermaster. Decryption key seven-six."

Lerona Kodd gave her bunkmate an encouraging smile as he completed the handover, transferring the incoming message to the appropriate receiver.

"How are you two getting on?"

"All pretty quiet at the moment, sir. The droid systems are handling most of the incoming traffic."

The plan, as far as Lerona understood it, seemed fairly straightforward. If their clone supervisor was out of the room at the same time that Krell received his nightly transmission, they were to make use of the signal splitter machine in the communications booth. By filtering out any background information from the weather broadcast, any secret messages would be easier to decode. After that, it would be Lerona's job to make contact with the Office of Naval Intelligence. She'd assured Sam that they would know what to do with the information. At least, she thought they would be the best people to contact. _Why would their calling code be stamped into nearly every training manual we get if they didn't want to be contacted?_

It was certainly risky, Sam was right about that. But faced with the choice of never making captain, Lerona knew she had to follow through with it. The indignity of those demerit points felt like a millstone around her neck, and the plan offered a way out. Either Krell would be caught out, and the two cadets would be lauded for their success – or the plan would fail, Sam would take the fall, and she would have her records restored to their original level from before she was given her incompetent bunkmate.

 _…Incompetent? Maybe not._ Sam Green certainly didn't seem to have a great understanding of his assigned role, but there was also something about him that betrayed his knowledge of other areas. As if on cue, Lerona felt something digging into her shin. She glanced down, to see that Sam was gently nudging her under the desk. Without moving her head, she looked over to his console, where a flashing light indicating an incoming transmission was clearly visible. _Krell. Right on time._

Squawk set his datapad down on his desk, and stood up. He gave both cadet's consoles another cursory glance and nodded in approval. "Nice work cadets. You seem to have everything under control."

"Thank you, sir."

"I have some documents I need to file with the Captain's office, on the middle deck. Can I trust you to keep an eye on everything until I get back?"

Sam hesitated, but Lerona jumped in. "It won't be a problem, _sir."_

"Good. I'll be back shortly." Squawk turned and stepped out of the comms room, allowing the heavy metal door to swing shut behind him.

"Whew. Thanks…I lost my nerve for a second." Sam exhaled, his pale face suddenly flushed with excitement. "You still in?"

"Now or never, Correllian. Let's get to it!"

Lerona linked the incoming transmission up to her console, then unspooled a length of cable to the signal splitter device in the centre of the room. "Sam. What was the splitting code Squawk told you?"

Her bunkmate flipped through the notes on his datapad. "Ummm…I wrote it down in here…here we are. Zygerria, 03-22-71."

Seeing Sam hesitate over the keyboard, Lerona pushed him aside and dialled in the code.

"Now what?"

"Now we wait. Should only take a few minutes, then I've set up the machine to start sending the decrypted message to Naval Intelligence. I've also included a little forward, explaining where the message came from." Lerona hesitated over the keyboard. "I also only named you, Sam. Are you sure-"

"I'm sure."

Lerona continued with the transmission, but Sam's willingness to put himself in potential danger continued to nag at her. "Alright Sam. Why Krell? It's not just about my marks, or him confiscating that communicator of yours. What else do you know?"

Sam made a face. "I can't…it's too difficult to explain right now. Suffice to say…I know some other stuff about him, and I think…I think the Jedi and the Republic ought to know."

Even that wasn't all of it, but Lerona decided not to push any further. _Maybe after we pull this off, he'll give me a better explanation._ The cadets continued to work, but were interrupted moments later by the chime of a communicator.

 _"Cadet Kodd. Report to me on the middle deck at once."_

"Sir? What about Gree?"

 _"He can handle the comms for a minute or two. I need a hand with a few things."_

Lerona looked up at Sam, who gave a slow nod. "Yes…yes, sir. Right away."

With one last glance over her shoulder at her bunkmate, Lerona stepped out of the comms room and onto the main bridge. As she walked to the turbolifts, her mind was preoccupied with the plan. _The message will be sent in just a few minutes…but what if it can't be decoded? What if somebody stops it going out?_

The journey down to the middle deck was quick and unevetful, but the lift was packed with personnel rotating off the bridge. The lighting aboard the ship had changed to reflect an artificial night, a time when a large proportion of the crew clocked off and either slept or ate. The doors of the turbolift hissed open, and Lerona stepped out onto the middle deck – only to nearly collide with a hulking figure coming the other way.

"Out of my way!"

Lerona stumbled out into the lobby, allowing the Jedi General to push past into the lift. As the doors closed, and the lift started up, the signals cadet desperately grabbed her commlink.

"Sam…it's Krell! He's heading your way!"

* * *

"Are you sure?"

 _"He knows, Sam! He has to!"_

As soon as Lerona had said the General's name, I _knew_ I was screwed.

I thought about running out onto the bridge, but I knew it was never empty of personnel. Krell would find me in seconds. There was also only one way I knew of getting off the flight deck, and the Jedi was bound to spot me waiting for a turbolift. Hiding was my only option. I looked around wildly, peering under desks and running my hands across the grey wall panelling, searching for wall cavities that I could conceal myself in. Unfortunately, the walls were either covered with equipment or the weird striped mesh that you'd find on the Death Star, nothing more than a grill with some lights behind them. There was only one hiding spot left - the air duct, a narrow metal tube that partially jutted out from the wall near the ceiling. I wheeled over a small stool, stood on it, and took a firm grip on the metal grating. A few good hard tugs were enough to free it, and it slid back until it was flush with the inside of the duct, allowing me to enter. Looking around the room for anything else I may have missed, I kicked the stool away and clambered up into the duct.

 _Oof. Not a lot of room in here._ Sliding the grate back into place behind me, I began to shimmy forward on bare metal, rounding the corner that would take me into the space behind the back wall of the comms room. The duct carried on with a gentle upward slope for a few metres, before suddenly dropping off into a narrow shaft. There was nowhere to go beyond the shaft, so I elected to sit tight, curling myself up into a ball. All I could do was sit, wait, and hope. Cadets didn't seem to be allowed to carry blasters, so I was unarmed. _Not that a blaster would do anything to a Jedi Master…_

 _"Sam! Are you still there?"_ Lerona's voice echoed out from my commlink. _"Have you made it off the bridge yet?"_

"Lerona! Don't let Squawk back up here, alright? Feed him some bullshit about maintenance, or a security breach, something!"

 _"Bullshit?"_

"Lie to him!" Without waiting for a reply, I shut the communicator off and stuffed it back inside my uniform. From the other end of the duct, I faintly heard the distinct hiss of the turbolift arriving on the bridge. Seconds later, an officer in the command centre began to bark for the crew to stand to attention. Heavy footsteps sounded on the deck outside the comms room, then the door suddenly hissed open.

"…and remain outside. I will handle this myself."

"As you wish, General." There was more scuffling, the clatter of armoured clone troopers marching away – and the sound of the door to the room slamming shut.

Then, in his distinctive low growl, Krell spoke. "I know you are in here, _boy._ There are no other ways off this bridge." He paused, and his voice turned to an angry snarl. "Do not waste my time by hiding! Show yourself!"

There was a pregnant pause, broken only by the rumble of equipment and the relentless flood of images that were filling my frightened mind. _Krell, snapping the spine of a clone across his knee. Krell, effortlessly dispatching his own men in seconds…_

"The only other machine on this ship capable of eavesdropping on my secure channel is located in this room. It had to have come from here!" Krell's voice began to move, as the Jedi paced around the room. "I admit, you are cleverer than I first imagined. Not as…blindly obedient as these clones…but certainly more inventive. But I can assure you; whatever information you _think_ you have gathered is not worth more than your life."

I said nothing. In the stifling darkness of the ventilation duct, I could hardly gather enough air to breathe, let alone speak.

"Very well! If you will not come to me…then I must seek you out myself!"

There was a loud buzzing sound from the comms room, and a flash of green light that was visible against the reflective panelling of the ventilation duct. The significance of these cues took a moment to register in my brain, but before I had time to react the point of Krell's saberstaff erupted through the wall just centimetres from my head. Resisting the urge to yell, I clapped a hand over my mouth and hugged my knees to my chest as the lightsaber blade cut a glowing path through the duct wall. Krell snarled, whipping the saberstaff around his head as the blades tore through fixtures and equipment. Over the sounds of Krell's rage, I heard the signal splitter loudly announce that it had finished sending the message - before it was sliced in half by a saber blade.

"Where are you? _Where are you_!"

The angry hum of the saberstaff reached a crescendo as Krell dragged the blade around the room, leaving a glowing trail in the metal and severing the exposed section of the airduct, which fell noisily to the floor. Then, as if shaking himself out of a bloodlust, Krell drew a deep breath and deactivated the weapon. He paused, the sound of his heavy breathing reverberating through the room.

"You may have evaded me this time…but you cannot hide on this ship forever. I _will_ find you." The Besalisk gave one last angry snort, then marched out of the comms room, quickly opening and slamming the door to hide the state of the room from the personnel on the bridge.

There was a long silence. In the darkness of the ventilation duct, the only sounds were those of my ragged breathing, and the gentle click of cooling metal from where Krell's saberstaff had broken through. I ran my hands over my body, trying to reassure myself that all of my limbs were still attached. _How…how did I survive that…I should be dead…and how come Krell couldn't find me? Surely a Jedi like that could see through walls with the Force!_

The time, I thought, for wondering about my chances of survival could wait until I was completely in the clear. Cautiously, I began to move back towards the entrance of the ventilation duct. Pausing every few seconds to make sure I was alone, I eventually dropped out through a hole that had been cut into the duct, making sure not to touch the hot metal with my bare hands. The doors were closed, but as I moved closer I could hear Krell's deep voice as he addressed some clones on the flight deck.

 _"…admit no one until maintenance can inspect the problem. Is that clear?"_

 _"Yes, General. But wouldn't it be a good idea to let the droids take a look first? We can use the comms equipment on the bridge for now, but it would be best to get the equipment back on line as soon as we can."_

 _ **"You will admit no one, Sergeant."**_ The subtle change in Krell's voice brought on an involuntary shiver, as the Besalisk performed a mind-trick on the clone. _"Keep that door closed. Double the guard on this floor, and make a full sweep of the ship. I want them both found!"_

 _"At…at once, General Krell."_

The clone saluted, and I heard Krell moving away. Then, my communicator trilled. _Uh-oh. Squawk._

"Uh…Cadet Gree here."

 _"Gree. What's going on? Kodd said there was some kind of incident in the comms room."_

"Yeah…a pressure leak. The ventilation system failed, so I've closed the room up. Umm…I think General Krell has posted a guard at the door."

The clone officer sighed. _"Whatever it is, get it fixed quickly. The General is on the shipwide broadcast channel now, and he doesn't sound too happy to me."_

"…Yes sir." _Tell me something I don't know._ Shutting off the communicator, I stood for a moment, taking in the destroyed room. The patch of wall that had hidden me from the General's rage was remarkably unscathed, save for a vertical puncture that looked to have come within centimetres of my body.

 _Maybe there is someone looking out for me after all…_


	8. Chapter 8

_The Office of Fleet Intelligence is a satellite body of the larger Republic Intelligence Agency, with greater autonomy than most other divisions, such as the Territorial Affairs Commission or the Office of Forensic Investigation. Fleet Intelligence oversees the many thousands of ships in service with the Republic and is responsible for examining the backgrounds and histories of their crews, as well as responding to internal espionage threats on board these vessels. As is the case with all intelligence agencies, high-level operations require the authorisation of the Office of the Supreme Chancellor, a product of recent legislation._

\- "Republic Intelligence and the Grand Army", _The Complete Guide to the Galactic Republic (Revised Edition),_ vol.2, pp. 1844-2003

* * *

In truth, I was surprised that I managed to stay hidden for as long as I did. But on a ship this large, bristling with sensors, droids and clone troopers, I knew it was only a matter of time before I was recognised. When I was brought to Krell, he already had Lerona. Squawk was nowhere to be seen as a contingent of clone troopers followed the Jedi Master out of his office, dragging us behind them in painfully tight bindings.

Krell walked at the head of the group, a faint smile on his lips. He clearly had plenty to feel pleased about. Lerona walked beside me, head bowed. She wouldn't meet my gaze. As we continued on, my spirits dropped, and I knew no help was coming. _Something must have happened to the message. Maybe it never made it through…or maybe there was no secret message to begin with._

After walking what felt like the entire length of the _Unity,_ and enduring the curious stares of many of our fellow cadets, we reached the main hangar. Krell raised his hand, and the procession came to a halt. In front of us was a grey utility shuttle that was clearly being prepared for takeoff. An officer who I vaguely recognised as being the quartermaster was also in attendance, holding two small grey backpacks.

"Cadet Gree. Cadet Kodd. Step forward." Krell made a gesture, and our bindings snapped open and dropped to the deck. "You no longer need those."

"As you are both enlisted, and of sound mind and legal age, I have the authority to apply the harshest penalties possible. For the crimes of espionage and treason, other less _merciful_ Generals would proscribe the death penalty." Krell's smile broadened. "I am not one of those Generals. You are both young, and there is still hope for your rehabilitation. So, I will give you one final chance to redeem yourselves."

The Jedi gestured out through the hangar shields, to where a glittering green planet hung motionless against the starscape. "I have instructed Captain Keteris to bring us out of hyperspace here, in the Shuuk system. Thulfavire is the most hospitable world here, with a breathable atmosphere and some intelligent life. Although a habitability study is overdue by a century or so now, the last recorded visit mentions that the natives were _reasonably_ friendly. Ha! I suppose you'll have to wait and see, won't you. Quartermaster! Issue them their survival kits!"

"No!" Lerona blurted. "You can't _maroon_ us! That punishment was declared illegal before the war!"

"Illegal in all but the most extreme cases, Cadet Kodd." Krell leaned in, close enough to make Lerona recoil. "And I think you would agree that attempting to break into classified communications constitutes an extreme case."

"You each have a blaster, water purifier and blanket, as well as a few other essential items. Use them sparingly. This long-range communicator has also been issued to you, but I doubt you will have a chance to use it. Thulfavire is at the bottom of an unusually deep gravity well, and there is no regular ship traffic through the system."

Instead of examining the kit, I was distracted – as were most of the assembled troops – by the arrival of a ship on the far side of the hangar. A shuttle, similar to the one that Krell had arrived upon days earlier, although this one was far bulkier and appeared armed. Almost as soon as the landing legs struck the deck, the ramp extended and several armoured figures exited at a run. The ranks of troopers parted to allow the new arrivals through.

"What is the meaning of this interruption, _clone_? Identify yourself!"

The clone trooper, clad in white armour that was edged with red stripes, saluted. "General Krell. By order of the Office of Republic Intelligence, I've come to take charge of your prisoners. They are to be transported to Grand Army Headquarters on Coruscant for immediate questioning."

Krell glared at the clone. "On _whose_ authority?"

"The Office of the Supreme Chancellor, sir." A datapad displaying a complicated pattern of symbols was produced and handed to the Jedi. "The request for the prisoner transfer was made more than twelve hours ago, sir, and signed immediately by the relevant authorities."

Krell refused the datapad, keeping his four arms folded. "That won't be necessary, Captain. I can assure you, I have the disciplinary situation well in hand. You can tell the agency that I have handled the investigation myself."

"I'm sorry, General, but these orders can only be countermanded by the officers who issued them."

"Pah! Who gave the order?"

"As a matter of fact, General, they wished to speak with you directly." The clone captain opened his right hand, revealing a small rounded device. He brushed it with his fingers, and a blue hologram appeared with a burst of static.

 _"Master Krell."_ Despite the interference, I instantly recognised the voice – _both_ of the voices – that issued forth from the communicator.

Krell inclined his head respectfully as the outline of two seated men became clear in the hologram. "Master Windu. Master Kenobi. What can I do for you?"

 _"We understand that there has been a significant security incident aboard the vessel transporting you to the Outer Rim. You are still aboard the Unity, I take it?"_

"That is correct, Master Kenobi, although I would hardly call it _significant._ " Krell stepped aside, revealing Lerona and myself to the other Jedi. "These two communications cadets conspired to break the encryption surrounding my private link. While they were unable to transmit it, no doubt to the Separatist Alliance, the fact remains that they have committed espionage, and must be dealt with accordingly. We _are_ at war, after all."

 _"I will have to correct you there, Master Krell. The cadets_ were _able to transmit the information they decoded – to the Office of Fleet Intelligence, and to the headquarters of the Open Circle Fleet. Our analysts have been examining the data for the last few hours."_ The glowing figure of Mace Windu gestured to Lerona and I. _"As for the Cadets, they need to be questioned at once to determine the validity of their claims. They will be accompanying you back to Fleet Headquarters on Coruscant."_

" _Accompanying_ me, Master Windu?"

There was movement at the doors leading off the hangar. A dozen clones in full combat gear were lined up along the corridor outside, weapons at the ready. Despite being hidden from where Krell stood, I could see a subtle shift in the stance of the Jedi Master as the troopers took up their positions.

 _"Regardless of the validity of this incident, I've been forced to take action. Your cruiser has been diverted back to the Republic base on Correlia_ _ **,**_ _where Master Kenobi and myself will meet you to discuss matters. I wish such measures were unnecessary, Master Krell, but the serious nature of the allegations demands that action be taken. We are at war, as you said."_

The captain closed his hand, and the hologram disappeared. "General Krell. Some of my men are standing by to collect any of your personal effects from your quarters. In the meantime, I will ask you to accompany me to the shuttle."

Krell said nothing. He stood stock still, his arms folded, staring out through the shields that surrounded the hangar. The captain waited for a moment, then made a subtle hand gesture. Two troopers standing next to him unclipped handcuffs from their belts, and stepped forwards. I noticed that the hands of every clone present had drifted to the butts of their blasters.

"Sir-"

"I will not be undermined by creatures bred in some _laboratory!_ "

Suddenly, Krell moved. His arms shot out, unleashing an unseen blast of energy that sent crewmembers flying back against the walls. The clones sprang from their hiding places outside the hangar and opened fire, filling the air with blue bolts. Even in the open space of the bay, the shrill whine of blaster fire was deafening, and before I knew it I was on the ground with my hands over my head. Over the sound of the blasters, I heard the distinctive hum of a lightsaber, and the cries of clone troopers who got too close. A reflected bolt struck the clone nearest to me, and I heard his armour crash to the deck inches away.

I felt movement next to me, and suddenly a blaster began to fire somewhere over my head. I opened my eyes, only to see Lerona standing over me, the fallen trooper's blaster in her hand. She looked down, and tossed me a second weapon.

"Come on!" Without waiting for a reply, she hauled me to my feet and continued firing at the fleeing Jedi. I adjusted my grip on the stubby DC-15, found what I hoped was the trigger, and opened up with wild abandon. _Not that I have a chance in hell of hitting him!_

If the clones were running hard, then General Krell was _flying._ Assisted by the Force, the Besalisk was a blur of yellow and blue light as he charged across the hangar, pirouetting back and forth between blaster fire as he went. Here and there, he would leap towards an isolated clone, his saberstaffs carving glowing wounds in durasteel and plastoid armour alike. A quick gesture was enough to send a dozen or more troopers skidding away across the deck as Krell reached the lift that would take him up to the second floor of the hangar, where the fighters were stored. Not bothering to wait for the door, the Jedi simply carved straight through into the shaft itself.

As Krell climbed and reached the upper gantry, the shuttle retracted its boarding ramp and lifted off the deck, turning towards where Lerona and I were standing. Sensing danger, Krell skidded to a halt, then threw himself sideways as the shuttle's heavy cannons began to fire. The bolts traced a glowing path behind him as he charged towards the other side of the hangar, using the Force to shield himself with objects as he went. With two of his hands, Krell gestured at the storage rack that was loaded with spacecraft, and as I watched, slack-jawed, the Jedi pulled down a sleek fighter and let it drop to the deck in front of him. In the blink of an eye, Krell had powered up his personal starfighter, interfaced with a hyperspace ring that was dangling from a rack nearby, and roared away across the hangar, letting off a few parting shots at other fighters that were preparing to give chase. Alarms howled as the crew attempted to seal the exit with an enormous blast door, but they were too late to stop General Krell as his fighter shot out into space, vanishing a few seconds later as it dived out of view.

As the sounds of battle died away, the clone troopers turned their weapons towards us.

"Cadets! Drop your weapons!"

Limbs trembling with adrenaline, I tossed my blaster to the deck and raised my hands over my head. The captain repeated his command as the clones levelled their blasters at my bunkmate.

"Lerona…do as he says!"

Lerona Kodd turned to look at me, mouth open – but whatever she was going to say to me was swallowed up by a flash of blue light.


	9. Chapter 9

… _Krell?"_

 _"I sense it too, my lord. We are being watched."_

 _"Now is not the time (unintelligible)…silence them before they talk!"_

 _"It will be done, my lord."_

\- Decoded excerpt, _Incident 3F-KR55_ , archives of the Office of Naval Intelligence.

* * *

 _"Captain Tarkin. There are two Jedi here to see you."_

"Send them in, Sergeant."

With a quiet sigh, Captain Wilhuff Tarkin cleared the holographic surface of his work bench of official documents. Tarkin occupied a spacious office on the top floor of the Grand Army Intelligence headquarters, an architecturally brutal building which also contained a large prison complex. From his window, he could see across the expansive grounds of the Grand Army Headquarters. The facility covered an enourmous area of Coruscant, big enough to be seen from orbit, and was composed of innumerable barracks, administration buildings, factories and even docking facilities large enough to accept _Venator-_ class capital ships. Even as he watched, the skyline to the east was obscured by the bulk of a warship slowly climbing into the setting sun.

The door to the office hissed open. Tarkin stood up, brushed a few non-existent specks of dust from his immaculate uniform, and moved to greet his visitors as they were escorted in by a party of clone troopers. The first was a human male, dark skinned and tattooed. He passed his robe to a waiting attendant and strode quickly across the office to seize Tarkin's hand in a painfully tight grip.

"Captain Tarkin. Thank you for agreeing to see us. We apologise for not providing you with advanced notice, but the decision was handed down by the Council at the last possible opportunity."

"Apology accepted, General Vos." Tarkin extracted himself from the Jedi Master's handshake, and turned to face the second Jedi. "And this is…?"

"You may not have been introduced…this is Master Secura, formerly my Padawan."

The second Jedi removed her robe, revealing an athletic female Twi'lek, with striking blue skin and heavy _lekku_ that hung well past her shoulders. Tarkin offered his hand. "The 327th Star Corps? Your reputation proceeds you, General Secura. I believe congratulations are in order for your successful campaign on Maridun."

When General Secura spoke, she did so with a distinctive accent that marked her as a native of Ryloth. "Thank you, Captain. It was a hard-fought battle, but my men have never let me down."

The clones exited the office with the Jedi's robes, and the door clicked shut behind them. Tarkin manipulated a switch on his desk, deploying shutters across the windows that cut the glare from Coruscant's harsh sunset and replaced it with an artificial white glow.

"We are here regarding the incident involving Master Pong Krell."

"Ah yes, General Krell. Please, sit." The news had come as something of a surprise and a disappointment to Tarkin. Out of all the Jedi he had encountered during the war so far, General Krell had seemed to have the greatest grasp of military tactics and discipline in the entire Order, and his campaign record reinforced this. His defection had been a shock for most of the military establishment – but Captain Tarkin had always harboured doubts about the leadership capacity of Jedi on the battlefield.

"Master Krell was a highly-regarded member of the Order, as well as a decorated General. The Council is troubled by the circumstances of this incident, and has dispatched us to investigate further." Vos pulled up a chair in front of the desk, producing a sheaf of printed documents and passing them to Tarkin, along with a pair of identity mugshots. "Specifically, we wish to speak with the two communications cadets who discovered his treachery."

Captain Tarkin gave a thin smile as he studied the documents. "Of course. How typical of the Council to request this interruption a full _five days_ after the suspects arrived in custody. I must warn you that they are already too far into the justice process for you to take any major action."

"We only ask that the prisoners be released into our custody for a brief period. We have some questions of our own that need answering."

"The Jedi Order needs to understand that the rest of the galaxy does not move at the same _glacial_ pace that they are so used to, General Secura." Tarkin glanced at the screens mounted beside his desk and shook his head. "I am afraid that the opportunity for lengthy interrogation sessions is over. The documentation has already been signed. The female cadet has been cleared for release…but the male has been charged with several espionage offences. He's due for a committal hearing tomorrow afternoon, and after that he'll be out of my hands."

"I thought a provision existed for a single day's extension, in light of significant developments?"

"If you have something significant, General, I'm sure the Office of Naval Intelligence would have been very interested in hearing it when the suspects were first brought in. Withholding such information attracts serious penalties."

General Secura frowned. "Are you insinuating that-"

"That won't be necessary, Master Secura." General Vos raised his hands in a placating gesture. "We understand your difficult position, Captain Tarkin. The suspects may have already been interrogated by intelligence officials…but not by Jedi. The Council believes that a Jedi investigation could uncover evidence that your own techniques have not, and that this, therefore, represents a _significant development._ "

Tarkin ground his teeth. General Vos was correct. The Jedi _did_ have precedent for successfully interrupting prosecutions in order to conduct their own parallel investigations, which often turned up new evidence.

"I suppose…where your unique _talents_ are concerned, exceptions must be made. f I may ask, what kind of information are you hoping to uncover?"

"We believe that General Krell interacted with both cadets on numerous occasions. The Council believes that these interactions may give clues to his mental state, or perhaps what his next moves are now that he had defected from the Republic."

"Very well. You can tell the Council that they have been granted an extension for one standard day. "

General Secura cleared her throat. "We will also need to transfer him to the detention facilities at the Temple for interrogation purposes."

Tarkin looked up and fixed the Twi'lek with a frosty glare. "That would constitute a significant waste of Grand Army time and resources to enable a single day of interrogation, General Secura."

"We must take every precaution to ensure that the process runs as smoothly as possible, Captain. I'm sure you understand."

"…Naturally." Tarkin held his glare a moment longer, then returned his gaze to the screens at his side.

It took Tarkin only a few minutes to complete the necessary documentation authorising the transfer of the prisoner over to the Jedi. Once it was complete, the security detail was summoned to escort the Jedi out, while a transport was put on standby in the main hangar area. Captain Tarkin walked with both Generals to the door of his office, and stood by their sides as they donned their robes. General Vos was distracted by his communicator and stepped out into the corridor, but Secura remained behind. With a slight smirk playing on his lips, Captain Tarkin cleared his throat and addressed her.

"It certainly makes you think, does it not? A Jedi Master, a highly respected General…and yet he was in almost constant contact with Count Dooku himself, right under your noses."

Aayla Secura regarded him coolly. "I'm not one to speculate."

"A rare but welcome trait amongst Jedi." Tarkin smiled. "It was a pleasure to meet you, General Secura. I wish you luck with your investigation."

"In my experience, Captain Tarkin, there's no such thing as _luck._ "


	10. Chapter 10

_PRISONER TRANSFER: APPROVED_

 _4490221_

 _CDT SAN GREE_

 _CLEARANCE: OMEGA_

 _THREAT ASSESSMENT: GREEN_

 _AUTHORISED BY:_ C. Tarkin, G. Vos, G. Secura

\- Prisoner transfer certificate 4490221, Office of Republic Intelligence

* * *

If you had asked me what emotion I would most likely be feeling three weeks into my adventure at the time I first arrived aboard the _Unity,_ boredom would have been last on the list. Yet here I was, idly tracing scratch marks on the low ceiling of my cell, wondering how long I would have to wait before the wardens came to give me my mandatory half-hour of daily exercise in the yard. The Grand Army prison on Coruscant was certainly not designed with prisoner comfort in mind. Above all else, I longed for a proper shower. Apparently, the GAR considered showers that involved actual water to be frivolous, so my cell was equipped with a strange booth that would blast me with sonic waves for a few short minutes each morning. It certainly shook the dirt off, but it wasn't a patch on the real thing.

I was shaken from my daydream by the sound of the ray shield deactivating. Blinking in the bright light, I swung my legs off my bunk and dropped to the floor of my cell, expecting to see a clone prison warden with a fresh change of prison clothes. However, as I looked up, a pair of wardens stepped into my cell, electrostaves at the ready, and behind them came a young woman in military uniform. Lerona Kodd smiled, and I smiled back.

"I heard the news. Good for you, Lerona."

My former bunkmate sighed. "Thanks. I'm being shipped out today. It looks like I won't need to take General Training again, at least…and the demerit points have been wiped from my record. I won't go back to nav training just yet, though. I'm being sent for evaluation with the Kuat Sector Defence Fleet."

"Cool. You said from the start that that was where you hoped to end up." I looked from Lerona to the impassive clone wardens. "So…"

"So…this is goodbye, Sam." Lerona stepped closer and held out her hand, which I took. "And good luck. Just know…I think you did the right thing."

"Ha. It wasn't much, really. I wouldn't have done it without someone like you backing me up."

 _"Cadet. Time to leave."_ The clone wardens stepped out of the cell, motioning for Lerona to follow. She did, and the ray shield sprang back up.

"Thanks, Lerona. I'll see you around."

Lerona Kodd smiled, and snapped off a salute. "Good luck out there, Sam. Remember – _all stars burn as one._ "

An hour later, having showered and eaten my last meal in the GAR Central Prison complex, a large party of clones escorted me from my cell to the central hangar, where I was led aboard a shuttle for transfer to the Jedi Temple. I was the only prisoner onboard, with about a dozen clone troopers in red and white armour keeping a careful eye on me. I paid them no attention, as I was pressed up against a tiny porthole next to my seat, gaping at the cityscape that was spread out below the shuttle. The pilot threaded the needle between a pair of _Acclamator-_ class ships that were coming in to land at the GAR headquarters, and the shuttle was jolted by the downdraft from their engines. The sheer bulk of the ships boggled my mind, and as we continued out over the city my clone wardens must have thought I was trying to squeeze myself out of the window as I craned my neck for a better view. Colossal skyscrapers mingled with yawning chasms that offered glimpses of the lower levels, and here and there I thought I glimpsed a familiar mushroom-shaped building that dominated the horizon, the Senate. The entire landscape seemed to glitter, and it took a few seconds for me to realise that the effect was caused by the sheer volume of traffic weaving between the buildings.

The flight lasted only a few minutes, and before long we were descending rapidly towards what I assumed was the Jedi Temple. For a planet as aggressively developed as Coruscant, the weather seemed remarkably pleasant and not nearly as polluted as I had expected, although there was noticeable difference when I stepped out of the air-conditioned shuttle and out onto the landing pad. I remembered reading somewhere that without forests or much of a normal atmosphere, the planet's air had to be produced in huge volumes by machines dotted across the surface.

So far on my strange adventure, I had seen a wide variety of truly mind-boggling things, from aliens to blasters and faster-than-light spacecraft, but for the first time I was left totally breathless by the building that loomed before me. From where I stood, the Jedi Temple seemed impossibly large, a monumental structure standing on pillars that were skyscrapers in their own right.

I wasn't given much time to gawk. The nearest clone trooper put a hand to his helmet, nodded, then tugged on my restraints. As the shuttle spooled up its engines in preparation for takeoff, my entourage left the launchpad and crossed over a narrow concrete bridge, heading for a large doorway. As we drew closer, two robed figures emerged from the shadows behind the pillars. Tall, clad in white and gold – _Temple Guards!_

"Halt! Identify yourselves!"

The clone commander who was accompanying us saluted, and presented the Guards with an identity card. "Prisoner transfer. San Gree, 4-4-9-0-2-2-1. Orders from General Vos."

"We will take them from here. Thank you, Commander." The Temple Guards lowered their saberstaffs and stepped forward. One took charge of my restraints, while the other gave the documentation a final check. With the prisoner transfer complete, the clone troopers formed up and jogged back in the direction of the landing pad.

For what seemed like minutes, the Temple Guards escorted me through a maze of narrow passages. Here and there, we would see a doorway or a patrol of more Guards, but my captors never slowed down or acknowledged them as we passed. Eventually, we exited the tunnels through an archway – and for the second time that day my breath was taken away by what I saw.

The Guards were now leading me along a corridor within the very heart of the Temple, although calling it a "corridor" was an understatement – the ceiling was only faintly visible if I craned my head back as far as I could, and it was wide enough to land a large airliner without touching either wall. Most of the interior surfaces were made of attractive red marble, and lit with wall-mounted fittings, although most of the light seemed to be natural, streaming in through skylights from somewhere high above. We turned another corner, and suddenly I was surrounded by the denizens of the Temple. Men and women, aliens of every size, colour and shape, as well as several droids bustled around me, and the air was filled with a hundred languages that were spoken, hissed, or whistled. My head whipped this way and that, trying to take in as much of this bizarre spectacle as possible. As if sensing my hesitation, the Guards moved ahead of me and began to walk faster. I quickened my pace as we moved through the busy corridors, with the Guards gesturing with their staffs to clear a path.

Eventually, we arrived at a heavy set of metal doors. Two more Temple Guards checked our credentials, then we were waved through. Beyond lay a warehouse-sized room made of far more modern-looking brushed steel and white panelling. The doors gave way to ray shields as I was brought further into what was clearly the Temple's prison complex.

 _That's them._ The Jedi were waiting for me as we entered the reception area. I'd caught a glimpse of the prisoner transfer documents the clones had been carrying, and seen their names. My head was swimming as I walked up to them. I'd already met one "named" character in this universe so far, but somehow these two felt far more intimidating than General Krell had. Apparently, neither sensed my nervousness as the Guards brought me to a halt before them.

"Cadet Gree. Welcome to the Jedi Temple." Master Quinlan Vos nodded respectfully to the Temple Guards, who turned and marched away. "Thank you for agreeing to assist us in our investigation. If you would follow us…"

Behind my back, I was grinding my sharpest fingernail into the webbing of my right hand, willing myself to stay focused – and to remind myself that I wasn't dreaming. "Thank you, I…I hope I can help you out."

* * *

A few minutes later, the two Jedi and me were seated in an interview room, bare of furnishings save for a table and three chairs. Master Quinlan Vos was a broad-shouldered and muscular human, though despite his tattoos and fearsome appearance, he seemed quite friendly. I'd already interacted with a handful of non-human species during my time in this universe, but Master Aayla Secura was a perfect blend of familiar and alien features that made it almost impossible to look away. Even against the harsh lighting of the interrogation chamber, the Twi'lek's blue skin stood out in strong contrast with the bare metal furnishings. It was also important not to look anywhere _except_ her face, otherwise my eyes would drift down in the direction of her-

"Cadet. I think we can begin now."

I blinked, and realised both Jedi were staring at me intently. I sat upright in my chair, flexing my now unbound wrists. "Sure. Um…I'm ready when you are. _Sir."_ I added.

Neither Jedi moved to make any kind of notes, but Quinlan pressed a button on the interview table which I assumed activated some kind of voice recorder. He and his former padawan voiced stated their names, and after insisting that my name was in fact _Sam Green,_ the interview could begin.

The first half an hour of questioning focused on Krell. His movements, his attitudes, his actions. I was asked to recall my every encounter with the Besalisk, from when he first stepped onboard the _Unity_ to the moment when his fighter sped out of the main hangar.

"Were you aware of any attempt by Krell to influence your mind? Did you ever find yourself thinking, saying or doing things you wouldn't have normally done?"

"No…no, I don't think so." I shrugged. "I mean, if he'd done it properly, I wouldn't remember anything about it, would I?"

"Very true."

There was a long silence. The two Jedi Masters exchanged glances, then Quinlan Vos produced a slim data stick from his belt and inserted it into a receptacle in the side of the recorder. The smooth surface of the interview table suddenly lit up, as a concealed overhead projector created a moving hologram in front of me.

"We would like to ask you a few more questions about your involvement in this incident. Be mindful, of course, that we are in no way asking you about the details involving your espionage prosecution. This security hologram was recorded in the communications control centre of the _Unity_ during the security breach. You recognise it?"

The figures in the hologram began to move, and I realised that the one closest to my folded hands was me, looking around furtively as Lerona bent over the signal splitter. "Yeah, I recognise this room. That's me, that's Lerona Kodd…I suppose our supervising officer has just left the room."

We continued to watch. Lerona was called away, and moments later I received a panicked call from her on my communicator, warning me that Krell was on his way up to the bridge. At this point, Quinlan clicked his fingers, and the recording froze.

"Now, can you describe to me what you were thinking at this particular moment?"

"I was scared, definitely."

"You were afraid of being caught. These emotions would have served to amplify your presence in the Force. And yet…" The hologram froze again. On the recording, Krell was standing just metres away from where I was hidden, separated only by a few thin metal panels. From this angle, he almost seemed to be staring right at my hiding spot. "… _somehow,_ Krell could not sense your presence. To us, this is certainly unusual. One would have to be more than equally talented in the Force to be able to disguise himself in such close proximity."

Both Jedi had a strange expression on their face, as if they expected me to reveal myself as a master of the Force. Instead, I shrugged my shoulders. "That seems…weird, I guess. What do you think?"

Aayla reached behind her, and held up a familiar object. The small silver suitcase that I had found at the bottom of my locker back on the _Unity,_ packed with my clothes and other items from home. She opened it, and passed my smartphone to Quinlan.

"This is yours, isn't it? The records state that Krell confiscated it from you a few days before the incident. May I?" I nodded, and Vos took my phone and walked to the centre of the room.

Aayla leaned over. "Master Vos has an innate ability with inanimate objects. He finds that he can pick up emotions and even fragments of memories, just by holding them."

Quinlan Vos took my phone in his hand and closed his eyes. He stood still for a few seconds, muttering something under his breath. His knuckles turned white, and for a moment I thought he might shatter the phone in his grip. After a minute or so of quiet exertion, the Jedi Master opened his eyes, and slowly lowered the phone to the desk. Judging by the expression on his face, and Aayla's curious gaze, I could tell something was amiss.

"Curious." Quinlan slowly returned to his seat, staring at me as he went. "Very curious indeed. Aayla?"

"We would like to try something with you, Cadet. It will only take a brief moment." Master Secura produced a small metal implement that resembled an oversized syringe from under the interview table. Seeing me recoil slightly, she reassured me. "Don't be alarmed. This device here is a-"

"-midichlorian testing kit?" I blurted.

"...Yes, it is. Have you seen them before?"

"Uh…yeah. Only pictures, not in person. I've always kind of been interested in the Jedi Order."

The Jedi exchanged curious glances. "I see. It's not usually a piece of equipment Jedi take beyond the Temple walls. In any case, I'm glad you understand what we'd like to do next."

"You'd like to take a blood sample, wouldn't you?" I swiftly rolled up my sleeve and presented my right arm, all the while internally groaning at how I'd handled the interaction. _Let the Jedi finish their sentences next time, or they'll think you're an even bigger weirdo than they already know you are._

Before I could dig myself an even bigger hole, Aayla leaned over and inserted the testing device into my arm. There was no pain, just a faint itching sensation, but I looked away anyway. _Ugh. Can't stand needles._ A chill swept up my arm as the device drew a sample of my blood, then the needle withdrew.

"Finished. The device should give us a count in a moment." Almost immediately, the kit emitted a loud buzz. Aayla handed the device over to Quinlan. He looked at the readout, shook his head, and turned it over in his hands. "That _can't_ be right. Unless…no, no. That kind of reading shouldn't be possible."

Before I could protest, another testing kit was produced, and a second needle pushed into my arm. Again, the testing kit buzzed as it displayed the results, and again the Jedi exchanged confused glances. As I watched the Jedi confer, my mind raced as I considered the possibilities. I'd tried to use the Force before, back on the ship – but now that I was here in the Temple, surrounded by experts, there was a chance they could help me to develop my skills. I could tell from their expressions that the readings must be unusual…unusually powerful, perhaps.

"Cadet Green?" Aayla Secura turned to face me with a questioning look on her face. I straightened up in my seat, bracing myself for the news.

"Sir?"

"Are you…feeling alright?"

"I'm fine. I mean, I suppose I'll have some bruises on my arms, but I think that-"

"That's not what she meant. According to this test, Cadet…" Quinlan held the kit up for me to read the number displayed on the readout. "…you shouldn't even be _alive."_


	11. Chapter 11

" _When we extended our hand to offer peace, they rebuked us! When the Senate met to discuss terms, they took the opportunity to attack! Rest assured, fellow delegates, that we will not fall for their tricks again. The treachery and deceit of the Separatists must be wiped clean from the galaxy. There will be no more negotiation!"_

\- Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, speaking in favour of the _Military Expansion Act_

* * *

"The detailed analysis results have just come back from the Healers."

"Well?"

"It's just as you said." Aayla Secura smiled as she produced a small vial of blood from within her robes. "Some of them even asked me if this was some kind of trick on your part."

Her former Master smiled back as he accepted the vial, placing it on the bench between them. "They have long memories, it seems. Even my antics as a Youngling clearly haven't escaped their memories."

With news having spread of the arrival of Cadet Green at the Temple, rumours had begun to circulate amongst members of the Jedi Council that something unusual was afoot. At present, only a handful of the most senior Masters were even aware of the precise details of Cadet Green's condition, but Quinlan Vos knew it was only a matter of time before word began to spread further afield. _Keeping secrets in a building full of mind-readers is always a difficult task,_ he mused. A study area within the Archives had become a de facto meeting room for discussing the new arrival, and throughout the day Jedi came and went, offering theories or adding to the ongoing research.

Closing his eyes, Vos tried to focus on vial, willing it to rise – yet even the simple act of lifting it a few hand-spans into the air proved difficult. The blood itself seemed to be weighing the vial down, keeping it anchored to the benchtop. In his mind's eye, the blood within was a curious blind spot, around which the background glow of the Force seemed to bend and distort.

The third Jedi in the study, Master Ki-Adi Mundi, watched intently as the vessel of blood gently returned to the surface of the bench. "Fascinating…in all my time within the Order, I have never seen such a thing."

Aayla motioned to the stack of Archive holobooks that Ki-Adi had arranged next to his seat. "Did your enquiries turn up any mention of this phenomenon?"

"There are accounts in the Archives of beings who were able to partially hide themselves from the Force, Master Secura. The Sith of old took particular interest in them as assassins and spies, as I recall." Ki-Adi held the vial of blood up to the light, turning it this way and that. "Yet they were only ever able to partially hide their emotions, and not without considerable training. This… _boy,_ is not simply hiding his mind from the Force; it is as if he exists outside it."

Aayla frowned. "Is such a thing even possible?"

"We are not dealing with a learned practitioner of the Force, but rather a natural ability – or a disability. He may well be a product of the Force itself. An incredibly rare mutation, perhaps. To be born without midichlorians may seem like an impossibility, but in a galaxy of a hundred thousand inhabited worlds...we will need to examine him further. It may also be important to study his immediate family, to see if, in fact, this mutation is hereditary. May I ask under what circumstances he was brought to the Temple?"

"Cadet Green has been remanded in custody by the Grand Army on charges of espionage. The Krell case, specifically. He was brought to the Temple for questioning by Master Secura and myself."

"Oh, I see. That changes things. Have we been given much time?"

Vos shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Cadet Green is to be returned to Grand Army custody by this time tomorrow. From there, he will proceed into the courts, and given the severity of his crimes I cannot say when, or even if, he will ever be released. I spoke earlier with Master Yoda…ah, here he comes now."

The approach of the Grand Master was difficult to miss for any Force-adept. His presence was a strong one, and one that dwarfed his physical frame, as he hobbled into the room supported by his ubiquitous cane.

"I trust you've heard the news, Master Yoda?"

"Indeed." The diminutive Jedi accepted the vial of blood, turning it over in his claws. "Hmmm. Granted us little time, the Grand Army has."

"We must keep him for as long as we can. There is a mystery here which we must unravel."

Yoda nodded. "A means of keeping the boy here, I know of. Back to the Archives, we must go."

Ki Adi-Mundi gestured to the stack of holobooks. "I fear I have exhausted the most obvious volumes. Where do you suggest we look?"

Yoda smiled, and rapped the floor with his cane. "We must go _deeper_ , Master Mundi. A resolution from times past, we will need."

* * *

"Now now, Blue. What did I say about wearing hats indoors? It's rude."

"Mm. I've killed over comments like that, you know."

"I _bet_ you have, Blue." The green-skinned Twi'lek behind the bar gave a wry smile, allowing one of her hands to creep across the countertop and up the arm of the patron sitting across from her. "But isn't that why you come here so often? To relieve a little… _tension_?"

A bony hand shot out from under the broad-brimmed hat, catching her wrist in a strong grip. Slowly, the figure straightened up in their seat, and she found herself looking into a pair of pupilless red eyes.

"I'd be more than happy to smuggle my goods up your cargo ramp any other night, sweetie." Cad Bane flashed her a toothy grin, revealing a row of pointed, shark-like teeth. "But I've got business to attend to. A drink's all I have time for."

The Twi'lek pouted, but her winning smile returned when she saw the neat stack of credits on the countertop. Swiftly pocketing the cash, she returned a few seconds later with a bottle. The bounty hunter accepted it, and made his way over to a table tucked away in a corner of the darkened bar. As with all his prospective clients, Bane had chosen a time and place to meet. This bar, one of thousands scattered throughout the underworld of Nar Shaddaa, was his preferred place – small, tidy and out of the way, but also handy for a quick escape.

He didn't have long to wait. The door to the bar slid back, and a shadow filled the doorway. Framed by the light of the neon signs outside, Bane caught a glimpse of a massive figure, concealed beneath a cloak, who was forced to stoop as they stepped inside.

The Duros tugged the brim of his hat respectfully at the hooded figure and greeted them in his distinctive nasal accent. "Good evening. I assume you're the one who wanted to talk about setting up a job."

The newcomer paused. The only other two patrons, a pair of humans who clearly recognised Bane, picked up their drinks and moved out of sight. Bane ran a practiced eye over the newcomer, sizing them up. The cloak bulged around the middle of the figure's torso and back, hinting at the presence of more than one pair of arms. The cloak shifted slightly as the newcomer drew nearer, and Bane thought he saw a familiar object clipped to their belt. Cautiously, Bane leant back in his chair, hands drifting down to the grips of his LL-30s.

"I'll warn you right now, _Jedi._ Unlike you, I've got no problem with shooting first and asking questions later."

The figure remained impassive. A clawed hand slowly emerged from beneath the cloak, revealing a portable communicator. With a blue flash, the device activated, bathing the gloomy bar in a soft glow as a familiar face appeared in the hologram.

 _"Cad Bane. We meet again. I do hope I am not interrupting anything important."_

"Count Dooku." Bane leaned back on his stool, his toothpick shifting to the other side of his mouth. "If this is about the op with Moralo, then you'll have to tell him to wait. Getting good intel isn't easy, at least not about the Chancellor."

 _"This is a different matter entirely. Myself, and my associate, require your services."_

"Is this your associate?"

Dooku gave a gesture, and the Jedi removed their hood and took a seat at the table opposite.

"Your reputation precedes you, bounty hunter." rumbled Jedi Master Pong Krell. "As does mine, I presume."

Bane stared at the Besalisk for a few seconds in apparent shock. Lowering his voice to an angry hiss, he leaned in close to the communicator. "What kind of stunt are you trying to pull, huh? The price the Republic's put on his head makes him a walking target, no matter how many fancy lightsabers he's got. How do I know every bounty hunter in the galaxy isn't going to try to jump us when we step outside this bar?"

 _"That is of no concern to me, Bane. I have a mission for you. An urgent mission, which will require the assistance of Master Krell."_

 _That_ caught his attention. _Urgent jobs always pay the best_. "What kind of job? I'm already tied up with homework for other missions, you know. Yours included."

 _"You will need to recover some items from a highly secure location."_

"What kind of items? They'd better be worth more than your _associate_ here."

 _"This mission is also time-sensitive. We have only a limited window before Krell can no longer gain access to them."_

Bane sharply inhaled between his pointed teeth. " _Very_ expensive. It'll be double my rate, at least."

 _"You will get more than that, Bane. Unlike some of your other missions, I will be expecting you to cause, rather than prevent collateral damage. I take it that you are still familiar with the layout of the Jedi Temple?"_


	12. Chapter 12

" _Based upon the strength of the evidence submitted to this court, I find the defendant, , capable of standing trial on the charges of espionage (S.4) and trespassing upon military property (S.283). As a not guilty plea has been entered by the defence counsel, the case of Green vs The Republic will now proceed to trial within the Lower Court Circuit of the Grand Army Department of Justice. A date for these proceedings will now be set."_

\- Justice Oun Sabreeni, closing comments of _Green vs The Republic (CH)_

* * *

After spending just a few hours getting used to life in the custody of the Jedi Order, I was already certain of one thing; prison life here was much more interesting. My cell had a large window that faced out onto the central concourse of the Jedi Temple, and for several hours I sat with my face pressed up against the tinted glass, marvelling at the figures milling about on the walkways below. Several times, I thought I glimpsed familiar figures – _only Kit Fisto has tentacles like that…and that red skinned one must be Shaak Ti._

Things got considerably more interesting, however, when I was suddenly pulled from my cell and returned to my interrogation chamber by a party of Temple Guards. Inside was Master Vos and Master Secura – as well as at least a dozen other Jedi, some of whom I recognised. _Mace Windu! Ki-Adi-Mundi!_

Awestruck yet again, I did not resist when the Guards deposited me back in my seat. My head whirled as the Jedi crowded around me, muttering to themselves and to each other as they looked me up and down, as if I were some kind of alien (I was). In truth, I had been expecting an interrogation of some kind, but with what felt like most of the Council crammed into the room I suddenly grew more nervous. Perhaps I was not to be treated as a curiosity by the Jedi, but as a threat in need of destruction.

Master Ki-Adi-Mundi was the first to directly address me. As he did, he took out the vial of blood that had been extracted from me hours earlier, and placed it on the bench between us with extreme care, almost as if it was about to explode.

"Cadet Green. As you know, you were first brought to the Temple for the purpose of conducting an investigation into an espionage offence." The Jedi Master smiled, and indicated the vial on the bench. "However, in light of new information, I'm sure you can imagine that other issues now take priority. The matter of your medical circumstances is, quite simply, unique in the archival history of the Order."

The other Jedi in the room seemed taken aback by this, but I did not fully appreciate the gravity of his statement, and simply nodded.

"While it is true that some have trained themselves to resist or hide from the influence of the Force, or to consume and destroy it, you are different. From this sample, the Healers have deduced that you possess more than a simple talent to resist the Force; you seem to exist _outside_ it."

This statement proved even more controversial than the last, and for a brief moment the room was in uproar as the other Jedi protested.

"Enough! Our time is short, and I can assure you all that there will be many opportunities to debate matters in the future. As you all may be aware, the Grand Army has only granted us custody of Cadet… _former_ Cadet Green for a single day – but we simply _cannot_ allow him to be removed before he has been properly examined." The Jedi Master turned back to me. "Therefore, we have devised a strategy to keep you here for as long as is needed…although, it is one that would require your induction into the Jedi Order."

 _Induction into the Order?_ It took me a moment to find my voice to answer the Jedi, and it was difficult to disguise my nerves. "Don't I need to be… I mean, surely my condition makes me pretty unsuitable for joining the Order."

"Not as a Force-wielder, no. However, the Order is supported by a Service Corps, who cover a broad range of functions and whose members are not all Force-sensitive."

My initial elation at the prospect of joining the Order was replaced with the mental image of me scrubbing windows or working behind the line in a cafeteria. However, before I could ask for clarification, Master Mundi signalled to a human Jedi standing nearby, who deposited several large plastic bags on the desk in front of me. The bags were open, and they spilled their contents out as they landed. Boots, pants, and other items of clothing, along with a considerable layer of dust.

The first bag contained a uniform similar in design to the one I had worn as a Republic cadet. It included a jacket, pants, boots and a dress cap, with the only major difference being the colour of the material. Rather than the standard grey of the Republic Navy, the uniform was royal blue, with yellow pipework around the edges and gold insignia sewn onto the shoulders.

"This is a Ranger uniform. It's yours, should you agree to join the Order, and you'd be the first to wear it in a long time." Ki-Adi-Mundi lifted a holobook that bore the same gold insignia. "The Antarian Rangers, to use their proper title, was an organisation that was first established centuries ago with a generous grant provided by a wealthy Gotal merchant. He and his people wanted to repay the Jedi for protecting their homeworld, Antar 4, and although no one amongst them could harness the Force, they established a unit of volunteers who served the Jedi in battle."

Another package revealed a suit of body armour, a similar colour to the uniform, but with much more muted patterns and no eye-catching gold. It looked something like the armour worn by the Senate Commandos, but this set only included a chest piece and some light gauntlets.

"The Rangers acted as scouts, snipers, and frontline support for the Jedi. Sometimes, the Council deemed it more appropriate to send a Ranger and Jedi on a mission, rather than a Knight and their Padawan. With the disappearance of the Sith a millennium ago, the Rangers slowly declined. The Council briefly considered reactivating them when war broke out, but the clones have filled their role both on and off the battlefield."

I rapped my knuckles on the body armour. Try as I did, I could not recall ever hearing anything about any "Rangers" in the Jedi Order. _Legends, probably._ "Declined? Are there any of them left?"

"The last remaining Ranger retired from active duty almost two hundred years ago."

 _That explains the dust._ "So…I'd be the first new Ranger in centuries, right? What would you need me to do then, if the clones already do the same job?"

My question was answered by a deep voice at my shoulder. Mace Windu took the piece of armour from my hands and placed it back onto the desk. "Your appointment to the Rangers is a formality. Your research value is far too great to risk you in open combat, or even outside the walls of the Temple."

Windu's dismissive tone stung a little. "So, you want me to dress up in a two-hundred-year-old uniform just so you can perform experiments on me?"

"It's either that, or face a lifetime behind bars in Grand Army custody."

"A lifetime?" Confused, I looked over to Ki-Adi-Mundi. "Are you saying this uniform will make me immune to prosecution?"

"Not from the prosecution itself, no. But whatever sentence you receive will automatically translate into service with the Rangers." Ki-Adi Mundi consulted the holobook. "…In times of crisis, conscription into the Rangers from prison populations can be mandated by the Jedi Council. Individuals possessing special talents and skills can be forcefully recruited into the Rangers… _regardless of current legal standing within the Republic._ The courts will require proof that we are not simply granting you amnesty from prosecution. If we can demonstrate that you have been conscripted into the Rangers, and are undergoing training as one, then they may be more inclined to agree."

Windu nodded in agreement. "That will give us all the time we need to uncover the true extent of your abilities."

I looked around at the expectant faces of the Jedi. Belatedly, I realised that this was possibly the first time on this crazy rollercoaster ride that I had been presented with a choice. Above all else, I needed a chance to pause and think, to consider what my next steps would be on this adventure. I'd still be more or less a prisoner, but a prisoner who wasn't pretending to be something he clearly wasn't. With their resources and help, maybe I could start to understand just why I had ended up in this universe, and what it would take to get me back home.

"Where do you want me to sign?"

"Very well. Mr Green, if you would be so good as to place your hand on this holobook…" Ki-Adi-Mundi slid the battered book with glowing pages across the desk towards me. "…and recite a few words for me. This will only take a moment."


	13. Chapter 13

_NAME: Burrton, Korey_

 _OCCUPATION: Debt collection/ Valuable item retrieval_

 _REASON FOR VISIT: Work_

 _LENGTH OF STAY: One week_

ADDITIONAL DECLARATIONS: None of your damn business!

\- Entry pass later determined to have been used by Cad Bane to land illegally on Coruscant, Coruscant Transit Control

* * *

"A word, if I may, Supreme Chancellor."

"By all means, Captain Tarkin. Please, join me in my office."

As the last of the other military officials departed the briefing room, Captain Tarkin rose and exited through a different door, emerging into the spacious office of the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic. The man himself, clad in a flowing grey robe highlighted in gold, closed the door after them and seated himself behind his enormous desk. In contrast to the gloomy briefing room, where the windows were heavily shuttered so as not to interfere with the collection of map tables and holographic displays, Chancellor Palpatine's office basked in the midday glow of Coruscant's sun, visible through the gigantic window that made up one wall of the room.

"I had been meaning to commend you the last time you were here for your splendid handling of the Kuat affair. I remember you suspected Techno Union saboteurs from the very first briefing, and you were proved correct. Naval Intelligence is in very safe hands under your stewardship."

"Thank you, Supreme Chancellor."

Palpatine indicated the sleek drinks cabinet by the far wall, but Tarkin shook his head. Despite having a positive history with the Supreme Chancellor, Tarkin was too busy concentrating on keeping his nerves in check as he produced his datapad and opened it to set of formal documents.

"Now, what was it you wished to ask me?"

"It's…about the Krell incident, Supreme Chancellor. I understand you have been briefed."

"Ah." A look of concern passed over Palpatine's face. "A regrettable loss to the Republic, but an equally significant warning against lowering our guard to our enemies."

"I apologise if this comes across as an inappropriate request for someone of my status to make of you, Supreme Chancellor." Tarkin placed his datapad on the desk between the two men. "On behalf of the Office of Naval Intelligence, I wish to lodge a complaint with you concerning the conduct of the Jedi Council on this matter. They have been most uncooperative with the Grand Army, and although I would not go as far as to accuse them of deliberate interference with our investigation, I would say that this is now an issue that requires your oversight."

Placing his index finger at the top of the document, Tarkin began to walk the Chancellor through the chronology of the case. As Palpatine read along, the kindly expression that usually graced his face gave way to one of confusion, then displeasure.

"The legal counsel appointed by the Jedi to represent Cadet Green withdrew their not-guilty plea almost as soon as the trial began. It was a delaying tactic, a waste of valuable court time, just so that they could forcibly draft the defendant into this newly reformed outfit of theirs, the Antarian Rangers." Tarkin flipped to a new page. "Using an obscure piece of legislation dating back several centuries, they bypassed the justice system entirely."

"I see. That is most concerning." Palpatine steepled his fingers under his chin in thought. "On what pretence are they continuing to hold the Cadet? This document seems to show that they only originally wanted him for a single day of questioning."

Tarkin sighed, although he was secretly relieved that the Supreme Chancellor saw things from his perspective. "I'm afraid they have given only scant justification for their actions, Supreme Chancellor. Something about requiring Cadet Green for research purposes. They clearly seem to think that whatever _spiritual_ or _paranormal_ qualities he may possess far outweigh the need to see justice done."

Palpatine raised an eyebrow. "Paranormal qualities? Such as the ones the Jedi themselves possess?"

"Apparently so, Supreme Chancellor." Tarkin flipped to the relevant document on his datapad. "This was their most recent reply to our enquiries. They list their reasons, vague as they are, here…and here."

"Thank you, Captain." Palpatine considered the document in silence for a minute, then gestured to a silver protocol droid that had been standing motionless in a far corner of the office. "Have these documents uploaded to my private server immediately. I should like to go over them in greater detail in future."

"Thank you for understanding, Supreme Chancellor. I will be transferred to active duty in the Navy at the end of this month, but I am glad that I could get your assistance on this matter during my tenure within the Office."

Palpatine pressed a buzzer on his desk to summon someone from elsewhere in the building. "These sorts of breakdowns in communication cannot be allowed to exist within our bureaucracy. I can assure you, Captain, that when this war is over I will make it a matter of priority to reform the relationship between the Jedi Order and the army. It's individuals such as yourself that make the Republic as strong as it is, Captain, and I will await news of your successful campaigns with great interest."

The two men rose, and Palpatine followed Tarkin to the door, where two guards appeared to escort the officer from the building. Following behind them was a striking looking woman in a thick cloak – Sly Moore, the Umbaran mystic and Palpatine's senior advisor. Tarkin gave her a polite smile, but looked away quickly before he got caught in her mesmerising eyes.

"Thank you again for your discretion in this matter, Supreme Chancellor."

Chancellor Palpatine took Tarkin's outstretched hand and gave it a friendly shake. "For the good of the Republic, Captain."

* * *

"Ah…Queen Scintel was right to recommend your services, girl. The hospitality of the Zygerrian people is truly a remarkable thing." Count Dooku shifted on the massage table as the hands of his new slave worked their way down his back. "A little lower…perfect."

"Yes master. Thank you, master."

It had been necessary to remain on Zygerria while he was still communicating with Krell in secret, but now that he had returned to Serenno to supervise the war effort, Dooku had not entirely abandoned the comfortable lifestyle his hosts had granted him. A Togruta slave, her own brightly patterned skin highlighted by a revealing metal costume, was currently massaging the Sith Lord's back, working scented oils into his knotted muscles. Dooku sighed as he felt another tension point fade away; even with the power of the Force on his side, a long and stressful trip could leave him feeling his age.

The pleasant fog in Dooku's mind was banished by the familiar clatter of metal feet.

 _"My lord. We have an incoming transmission."_

"Ah…a moment longer…that's it, that's it."

The tactical droid didn't move. _"Priority One, my lord. This is a Priority One transmission."_

In an instant, Dooku was wide awake and sitting bolt upright on the couch, his discarded cloak flying to him from the other side of his office. Startled, the slave girl jumped back, into the waiting arms of a Magnaguard. The security droids whisked her away, sealing the doors shut behind them. Alone save for the tactical droid, Dooku walked behind his desk and activated the communications array. Then he slowly lowered himself to one knee, and waited. Even before the connection had been completed, Count Dooku sensed the looming presence of Darth Sidious in the Force. Taking a deep breath, the former Jedi Master steeled himself for the unknown as a hooded figure flickered into existence before him.

 _"Darth Tyrannus."_

Dooku bowed his head. "My master."

 _"I do hope I am not interrupting your vital work."_ There was a slight hint of amusement in the Sith Lord's voice, but Dooku said nothing, only attempting to bow his head further. _"News of your success with Master Krell has travelled far. What is the current disposition of our newest ally?"_

"Master Krell has joined with an associate of mine on Nar Shadda. Under my instruction, they are formulating a plan to infiltrate the Jedi Temple and seize information that may be critical to our efforts. In the confusion following Master Krell's defection, his ability to access Republic security systems may not have been revoked – leaving us an opportunity to strike."

 _"A wise strategy, my apprentice. However, the situation within the Republic has changed. This mission of yours must now take on a new urgency."_

Dooku raised his head, looking directly up into the shadowy hood. "What is your bidding, my master?"

 _"The Jedi Council has seen fit to reactivate the Antarian Rangers, for reasons that are unclear to me. The very same individual who discovered the true nature of Master Krell's allegiance to the Republic has joined the Order in this capacity. What do you make of this?"_

Dooku frowned. The Antarian Rangers had been disbanded for over a century during his time within the Order, and now that the Jedi had abandoned their peaceful ways they could command entire legions of cloned soldiers on and off the battlefields. "This is a most unexpected move. This paramilitary organisation of which you speak was extinct well before my time in the Jedi Order, and I cannot think of a reason that would cause them to reactivate it."

The hologram laughed, a harsh cackle which was distorted into a guttural growl by the poor-quality connection. _"A trick, Darth Tyrannus. The Jedi are attempting to deceive us. There is more to this boy than his connection with our newest ally. They say his relationship with the Force is one of unnatural proportions, though I have been unable to sense him."_

"Krell will be in position to strike at the Temple shortly, my master. We have an opportunity to learn more about this individual, and what the Jedi may be planning."

 _"We have too many plans in motion to allow this unforeseen problem to interfere."_ Darth Sidious rubbed his hands together. _"This will be Master Krell's first test. Recovering information from the Temple is to be a secondary concern; he must find this Antarian Ranger, and he must kill him."_


	14. Chapter 14

" _Knight Timpel saw the value that a fighting force of trained soldiers could have for the Jedi Order. Kaskutal, a wealthy businessman on Antar 4, agreed to fund the unit, and the first Rangers began their training the following year. Thus, the organisation founded by a Jedi Knight and a Force-sensitive Gotal flourished into the organisation that exists today, a staunch ally of the Jedi Order and a fighting force that stands ready to defend the Republic."_

* * *

\- "Chapter One – History of the Antarian Rangers", _Ranger Doctrine Manual,_ p. 2-40

"And when I do _this_? Can you feel it?"

"No."

"Here?"

"Nope."

"Hmm. There, surely you felt that."

I opened my eyes to see a pair of blue hands, palms outstretched, only inches away from my face. "Sorry, Aayla." I flashed a grin up at the Jedi Master. "No luck this time."

Soon after my meeting with the Council, I had been taken on a tour of a "small corner" of the Jedi Temple – a tour which had lasted the best part of several hours. Now, a day after I had donned the uniform of an Antarian Ranger, I was getting acquainted with a few things, like the Temple, some training facilities…and a room full of jelly.

I was standing in the now familiar confines of what the Jedi referred to as a "flow tank", a white-walled metal room about the size of a gymnasium. Filling this space at a depth of almost a metre was a cold, sticky green gel. As it had been explained to me, the idea was to use the Force to manipulate your surroundings, and the gel could be used to map and measure that power. Unleashing a devastating push on another Jedi would not only send them flying back, but also create visible ripples through the gel that revealed how focused or dispersed the energy was between the caster and the receiver. Apparently, the tank was a favourite with Younglings who were just learning to harness their abilities.

The only thing in the flow tank that wasn't green was a blue-skinned female Twi'lek. Master Secura had been made my "handler" by the Council, for the time being, and was in charge of testing my abilities.

"Hmm. Cross your arms, and hold them tight to your chest. Let's see if I can't cause you to overbalance."

"Without using your foot this time?"

Aayla smirked. "Not unless I have to, Green."

We'd started out formal, but the sheer oddity of the whole process caused the clinical attitude to disappear after a few hours. Both of us were wearing were wearing plastic jumpsuits that let the gel slide off, but it still clung to our hands, feet and faces. Master Secura, or Aayla as she'd eventually told me (I pretended not to know out of politeness) had been put in the tank with me to perform a full, rigorous assessment of my abilities and inherent relationship with the Force – and so far, she had had no success. Being a Jedi Master, she was hardly rolling around in the gel laughing, but there now seemed to be a faint smile permanently attached to her face.

Aayla squelched around behind me, sizing me up. I crossed my arms, closed my arms and waited with a grin on my face to see what move she tried next. Once again, I felt a rush of air against my back and a corresponding ripple through the gel at my feet, but I remained almost motionless, like a heavy boulder standing in the current from a stream. Try as she did, Aalya could not interact with me through the Force in any kind of measurable way. If she stood within an arm's length of me and focused hard, she could manipulate my suit, but even then her options were extremely limited. All I had to do was start moving around, or even ask a question, for her to break concentration, and my short hair was sticky from where she'd doused me with gel for my trouble.

I started to laugh again, and she did too, but she stopped suddenly, and regarded me with a puzzled expression.

"Strange."

"What's strange?"

"Your emotions." Aayla made a waving gesture. "Out here a Jedi can sense the feelings of another. They give off echoes in the Force. But with you…"

I sighed in mock sadness. "I have the emotional range and Force presence of a rock. No need to rub it in."

"That's not how I'd have put it, no."

I raised an eyebrow. "Better than a rock?"

"Worse."

* * *

Ears still ringing after stepping into a sonic shower fully clothed, I emerged from the airlock of the flow tank and out into the central space. I felt tired, but in a good way, the same kind of buzz that I got from going for a run. I gave a cheerful wave to a pair of robed Jedi who had been watching me in the tank, but they only stared at me blankly. Aalya emerged after me, and held a muttered conversation with them as they compared datapads, presumably containing details about my performance. No matter where I went within the Temple, it was impossible to forget that I was as much a guinea pig to the Jedi as I was their newest recruit. They had been watching me in the tank – _who knows where else they've been looking?_

A few minutes of walking later, and I arrived at the entrance to my quarters. Aayla walked with me, shepherding me through the crowds of people that filled the corridors of the Temple at seemingly all hours of the day and night.

"Make yourself presentable, Green. I'll be escorting some visitors down here in an hour to supervise the beginning of your training."

One of the Temple Guards which had been assigned to watch me was waiting at the door, and it opened with a wave of their hand. Aalya turned and walked back into the crowd, and I went inside to freshen up.

I hadn't just been given my own room. Within hours of my promotion to the Rangers, an army of service staff had descended to the lower levels of the Jedi Temple and opened up a complex of rooms that had been sealed for centuries. These had once served as a barracks and training facility for the Antarian Rangers, although not as their main base of operations – the headquarters of the organisation had actually been back on Antar 4, and only a dozen or so were stationed at the Temple at any one time. This, however, suited me perfectly, as I effectively had the whole complex to myself. There was a well-stocked weights room, a pool (albeit with no water), a dormitory with a dozen beds, and a spacious office intended for a superior officer. Although I hadn't been told otherwise, I quickly bagged the office and the ensuite quarters for myself. _Technically, I'm the highest-ranking Ranger in the galaxy…_

There was also a door that led to an armoury and a firing range, although that was under lock and key. Aayla had said she would provide it to me once I had begun my training – what that meant, I didn't quite know. The only other door that branched off of the main 'lobby' of the Ranger barracks was a hangar large enough for a single shuttle, which clearly had been closed for centuries.

The centre of the atrium was dominated by a statue, made of a dull metal, that stood several metres high and was illuminated by a network of powerful lights. Two figures, one a human Jedi, and the other a horned alien – a Gotal – were frozen in the act of shaking hands. A number of other armed figures were gathered around them, although a few of the plinths were missing their statues. From my reading, I understood that this was clearly a reference to the founding figures of the organisation, Kaskutal and Knight Timpel. I admired the statue for a moment, making a mental note to ask someone about whether the empty fountain at the base of the monument could be started up again, and then went inside the office.

Reading had taught me a few things about my new role already. In addition to a tour and spacious accommodation, I'd been given something else – homework. The old holobook that Master Ki-Adi Mundi had taken my oath upon was now sitting on the desk in the office, open at the page I had been reading the previous evening. My reading comprehension was still a little rough, but staying up for hours had given me a chance to get through quite a few pages. The book, officially titled the "Ranger Doctrine Manual", was a training manual that seemed to contain a huge amount of information about the Antarian Rangers, from their historical origins as a mercenary company hired to protect a Jedi Knight a millennium ago, to their tactics, uniforms, weapons and other details.

Stepping into the office, I went to the far wall and opened up a massive wardrobe. The interior was filled with more vacuum sealed packages containing uniforms, just like the first items I had been given. I consulted the Ranger Doctrine Manual. There was a bewildering number of possible uniform combinations on the glowing pages – driver, pilot, dress uniform, summer and winter configurations. In the end, I picked out what I thought best matched a picture from an earlier chapter, featuring a human in royal-blue fatigues, a peaked cap and a heavy belt that was worn around my stomach. There was also a holster for a blaster clipped to the side, but they were presumably still locked away in the armoury. The thought of carrying a genuine blaster still made me feel a little thrill of excitement. After firing a few shots weeks ago, I was itching to get a chance to have another go, particularly on a firing range. The Manual spoke of the Ranger's "eternal readiness" for combat, but sadly nobody had stashed any secret holdout blasters in any of the desk draws.

I pulled the belt on and clipped it up, then examined myself in a mirror. I saw the reflection of a young man, his hair cropped in a military fashion. There was a little more colour in his cheeks than the last time I'd seen him, and a spark of confidence in his eyes. The fear and bewilderment that had fogged my mind since the beginning of my adventure had finally begun to recede, and although I was still encountering things that made my head spin on a daily basis, I was awed –not afraid. This wasn't some nightmarish misadventure, it was _Star Wars_!

As the fear subsided, however, different emotions had taken their place. I'd been gone three, almost four weeks now, and my thoughts had turned towards home. _How much time has passed back in my universe? Seconds, minutes…years even?_ The thought of never making it back seemed both too frightening to contemplate and also a distinct possibility.

 _Home…_ The image of my phone returned to my mind. When I'd last seen it, Master Quinlan Vos had been trying to manipulate it with the Force in the interview room on the upper floor. For all I knew, the rest of my possessions were still up there. If someone – or something – had left me a message, a clue of some sort, then I needed to hear it.

 _Deep breaths, Sam. Focus on the present._ I pulled the dress cap down over my head, tightened the straps on the goggles, and stepped out of the office and into the atrium.

There was a small party waiting for me in the shadow of the statue when I emerged. Aayla, dressed in her usual robes, along with a number of Temple Guards. There was another figure with them, who I only noticed as I approached – but when I did, my heart leapt into my throat. _Yoda!_

The diminutive Jedi Master looked up at me as I walked closer, leaning on his cane with a thoughtful expression on his face. I saluted – another move from the Manual – with a closed fist over my left breast, then stood at attention before him.

"Hmm. An Antarian Ranger's salute…long has it been."

 _Of course. He must be old enough to remember what the real Rangers were like._ I said nothing, trying to stay as rigid as possible as Yoda circled behind me, examining me from all angles. Surprisingly, he turned to one of the Temple Guards. Up until this point, I had not yet interacted with them like I had with other Jedi. They seemed to prefer silence, and when they did speak it was with a boring monotone.

"Master Pivus. Your thoughts?"

The one Yoda had addressed stepped forward. The eye slits of the mask panned up and down my body, as if the wearer was critiquing my uniform. I shifted my feet slightly as I was inspected, nervous that I was perhaps not dressed appropriately.

"It has been a few centuries, Master Yoda…but I will never forget the look of an Antarian Ranger in uniform." The voice was male, with a haughty upper-class note to it that was only slightly distorted by the mask.

 _Whew._ I gave a small smile. This Jedi was clearly old enough to also remember the Rangers in their prime.

"And I can safely say that _this_ is not the look I remember!"

 _Oh._

"A summer uniform…winter boots…mismatched insignia…a utility belt instead of a dress belt…and I don't recall those goggles being worn with that cap. Master Yoda, if _this_ is the best candidate for the Rangers in the last century then I think there was no need to reactivate them in the first place!"

Aayla stepped to my side, and indicated the Temple Guard with a nod. "This is Master Pivus. Captain of the Temple Guard, and the last Jedi to train with an active duty Antarian Ranger."

I saluted again. "It's an honour to meet you, Master. I'm…uh…glad to meet another Jedi who is familiar with my new position."

"Indeed. And it has fallen to me to be the guardian of their legacy and their future." The Guard removed his helmet, allowing me to see his face. "Stand to attention, Ranger! Your training begins now, and I can see I will have my work cut out for me."

"Sir!" I saluted – and the Pau'an male I knew only as the Grand Inquisitor returned it with a grim smile.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _Hope everyone is enjoying the story so far! For those who might be wondering, the Antarian Rangers are actually a part of the Legends continuity, and can be found here:_ wiki/Antarian_Rangers  
 _Thanks for reading, and be sure to let me know what you think!  
_


	15. Chapter 15

_The ELG-3A blaster is ideally suited for the role of personal defence. Small, stylish and functional, the ELG-3A features a removable power pack rated for up to four hundred full-power shots or eight hundred stun blasts. Options include a shortened barrel, a double-set mechanical trigger, and real wooden grips. For the select fire and carbine variant, see the ELG-3B. For the non-lethal law enforcement variant, see the ELG-3B(N)._

ELG-3A marketing brochure, SoruSuub Corporation (Munitions)

* * *

Gasping for air, my head broke the surface of the pool. As I floundered in the cold water, an electronic voice boomed out from above.

" _Too slow again, Green! I expect you to be much faster next session. Exit the course and prepare for the next phase of training."_

My hands found the edge of the pool, and I hauled myself out with a groan. Weighed down by a bulky suit of Ranger-issue combat armour, I could hardly stand up, choosing instead to crouch while I wrung the water out of my socks.

Above me, the padded platforms of the assault course swung gently from their chains. I'd had three attempts so far at running the course, and each had ended with me missing the final jump and ending up in the pool. Master Pivus, my instructor, had demanded that I complete the course in full kit, but while that may have been possible for an agile Jedi or a clone trooper, I was neither of those things.

Hearing footsteps behind me, I scrambled to my feet and stood to attention as Pivus approached.

"Sir!"

The Jedi Temple Guard folded his arms. "I realize that you are the first to run this course without the aid of certain…enhancements, Cadet, but three failures to finish in a row is unacceptable! We shall doubtless be required to visit this course in the next session. Now, follow me to the firing range!"

Pivus set off at a brisk march, and I did my best to keep up as we entered the range. To my right, the stern faces of three humans and two aliens were visible through an armoured observation window. Taking me aside before the training session, Pivus had explained that they were representatives from the military tribunal, here to ensure that the conditions of my sentence were being carried out.

"Before we begin, Cadet Green, do you have any prior experience in weapons handling?" Pivus indicated the cabinet behind him and the huge variety of equipment on display. "Do any of these pieces seem familiar to you?"

"I have had a little bit of experience before, sir. With…slugthrowers, hunting on my homeworld." _That was only partly a lie,_ I thought, remembering back to a time back on Earth where an uncle had let me join him on a pheasant shoot many years ago.

Pivus raised an eyebrow and indicated the cabinet. "Primitive slugthrowers are hardly the sorts of weapons Rangers need to be trained with. Unless of course you'd prefer one of these to a blaster…"

Using the Force, the Temple Guard pulled a weapon from the cabinet and dropped it into my waiting hands. Caught off guard, I nearly fell as the heavy rifle rolled into the crook of my arms, the long barrel striking the floor of the range. It was a primitive looking weapon, made of wood and black metal.

"That, Cadet Green, is a slugthrower of the sort used by the indigenous peoples of Tatooine. I can assure you, a weapon like that is of little use to a Ranger. Blasters are more useful than projectile weapons in all but the most unusual of circumstances, and proficiency with energy weapons is a prerequisite to serving as a Ranger."

With a wave of his hand, Pivus returned the rifle to the cabinet. Beyond the more exotic looking pieces on the upper shelves, there were rows of blaster pistols, rifles and other exotic weapons stacked up inside.

"This is a DC-15. Standard issue infantry weapon of the Grand Army. You have the range, Cadet. Show me what you can do!"

The empty range suddenly came alive with dozens of moving targets. Holographic projectors made droids pop up from the floor and behind pillars, moving erratically before disappearing. Settling into a ready stance, I took aim at the first target and fired, sending a blue bolt flying down range and striking the wall just left of the mark. As I got a feel for the weapon, my rate of fire increased and the bolts began to strike the targets, which fizzed and disappeared when struck. The open sights were well suited for close-range combat but hitting targets accurately when firing quickly was tricky for a first-time shooter. Pivus explained that the inherent shooting skills of clone troopers, coupled with aiming assistance devices in their helmets, allowed them to shoot at longer range, and that I should reduce my rate of fire to compensate. Between shots, I caught glimpses of the stern-faced invigilators watching me through the glass, making notes on their holopads.

Next on the table was a blaster of the sort that was carried by Separatist battle droids. I lifted it, held it in the stance I had been taught, and pulled the trigger.

"Ah!" The blaster hit the floor. "…that's hot. Ow."

"As you can see, Cadet, the E-5 cannot be used in the same way as the DC-15." Pivus picked up the E-5 and pointed to the barrel. "Heat shields are unnecessary when the intended user is a battle droid."

With both of my hands wrapped around the trigger guard, I hefted the E-5 like an oversized pistol and took a couple of shots. Surprisingly, the sights seemed a little more intuitive, but the weapon certainly felt far cruder, and even when held away from my body I could still feel an alarming amount of heat radiating from the exposed mechanism. The trigger was shaped like the sort that would be found on a garden hose, and the pumping action that accompanied each shot meant a few of my initial shots landed above my intended targets.

After the E-5, I was allowed to familiarise myself with a few other common blasters, such as the longer variant of the DC-series rifle, several pistols of varying size and power, and even an anti-material blaster rifle. The session ended with a lesson on how to field strip a DC-15, which, after a few attempts, I completed in a respectable time.

Pivus and I exited the training centre and stepped out into the corridor. Up ahead, Master Windu was speaking with the invigilators.

"Master Pivus. Cadet." Windu watched as the court officials departed. "A most convincing display. The court is happy with the current training regime, for now at least. They've agreed to commute the sentence for the foreseeable future."

Pivus bowed. "Thank you, Grand Master. It is an honour to have been given the responsibility for training the next generation of Jedi Rangers."

"Well, he certainly looked the part, and that's all he needs to be."

"In my opinion, Grand Master, he ought to be trained as if his deployment was imminent. We can't afford to waste personnel during wartime, and I believe something can be made of him, eventually."

"I appreciate your commitment Master Pivus." Mace Windu nodded as he turned and walked away. His gaze never met mine, but even without the ability to sense the Force I could still feel animosity radiating from the Jedi. My presence at the Temple was an anomaly, and my very existence was somehow challenging for a senior member of the Order.

"Well, Cadet. You heard me – your training will continue at an accelerated pace for the foreseeable future. Report back for your next session in six hours. Dismissed!"

* * *

The background chatter of the busy corridors of the Jedi Temple vanished as the doors to the Ranger Training Complex snapped shut behind me. In earlier days, I would have stared in wonder at the beautiful statues that dominated the silent hall, but today I lacked the energy to even activate the lights. Wearily, I dragged myself over to my quarters, my still-wet socks squelching underfoot.

The first week of my training as an Antarian Ranger was nearly over. Counting backwards in my head, I reasoned that I must have been on Coruscant for almost a month, making it nearly sixty days since my adventure had begun. Stripping off, I threw my waterlogged combat fatigues across the room and into the laundry receptacle on the wall, which sucked up the garments and whisked them away to the Temple Laundry.

I winced as I pulled the shirt past my left shoulder. My muscle was deeply bruised there after a trip to the Temple medical clinic, the product of a panicked late-night realisation that I was unvaccinated against potentially all the diseases that might be found on Corsucant. It was worth it in the long term, I reasoned, but right now I was regretting it.

Someone had been in my room. The bed had been remade, and a freshly ironed uniform was lying on the dressing table. More importantly, there was a familiar object leaning against the door – _my bag!_ Suddenly feeling wide awake, I unzipped the bag and emptied the contents onto the bed. Clothes, shoes – and my phone. I pulled on the fresh uniform, and eagerly grabbed my phone.

With some trepidation, I held down the power button, half-expecting the phone to be out of battery after sitting in the bottom of a bag for weeks. Instead, I was rewarded with a gentle buzz as the phone flickered into life. It was strangely comforting to be holding such a familiar object– but then again, as I entered the passcode and opened the home screen, I saw that the phone was inexplicably fully charged, and a fresh sense of unease settled over me.

I opened my voicemail, and saw I had one outstanding from three weeks ago. A private number, and it had left a voicemail message that was a little over two minutes long.

" _You have one new message. Message received at…."_

* * *

The first thing I was dimly aware of was a feeling of numbness spreading across my face. The feeling spread, and as it did it began to shift from discomfort to pain. Suddenly awake, I sat upright with a surprised grunt.

I was sitting at a desk in an office. _My office._ The room was bathed in an orange glow, and when I twisted around in my seat I saw the light from the setting sun streaming in between the skyscrapers of Coruscant.

 _Sundown…_

My phone was lying facedown on the corner of the desk. I picked it up and pressed the power button, but the screen stayed dark, with only the low battery light flashing.

"No battery? It was fully charged a minute ago…" Confused, I continued to mutter to myself as I stood up and walked unsteadily towards the washroom. I splashed water over my face, wincing as I touched my nose. It felt as though I'd been lying on it for hours. Returning to the desk, I pulled the chair out to sit back down, but as I did I felt the wheels strike something underneath. A book with a blue and gold cover was on the ground at my feet.

 _The Manual. How did it get there?_ Using both hands, I lifted the heavy holobook back up onto the desktop and set it down in front of me. As I did, my fingers caught the edge of something sticking out from between the pages, a folded piece of the paper analogue "flimsi". I pulled it out, unfolded it, and began to read.

The piece of flimsi was _covered_ in text. Red synthetic ink, from the pen I'd found next to me, coated the page in alternating neat lines and smudged ribbons, as if the writer had changed hands mid-sentence. The first dozen-or so lines were in English, but not in recognisable sentences. Halfway through, the scrawled characters switched to Aurebesh, and the last few lines were written in another script I couldn't comprehend. The final line trailed away, ending with a large character of unknown origin that had been drawn with enough force to partially tear the flimsi. It was not a complex shape, but there was something about it that made it distinctly unpleasant to look at, giving me the same tingling feeling that a picture of a wasp's nest or an ugly wound did. Putting my hand over the symbol, I returned my attention to the English at the top of the page.

"Did I write this stuff? Why?" I wondered aloud.

I scanned the page again. This time, though, as my brain caught up with the Aurebesh, I spotted a coherent phrase.

 _When the city burns…the fallen will return._

My concentration was broken by the hum of my personal communicator.

"Green speaking."

The cold voice of my instructor answered. _"Report to the armoury at once for inspection, Cadet."_

"Yes, Master Pivus." Slipping the flimsi back inside the Manual, I grabbed my cap and dashed for the exit. For now, it seemed, this was a mystery that would have to wait.


	16. Chapter 16

_The slugthrower is the traditional long-range weapon of the indigenous peoples of Tatooine. Fashioned from salvaged hunting rifles commonly found on the desert planet, the weapons are outfitted with lengthened barrels and distinctive curved stocks. While it may lack the rate of fire or the ease of use of a blaster, the so-called "Tusken rifle" is rugged, reliable and deadly at ranges of up to a kilometre._

Sign displayed at the "History of Galactic Warfare" exhibit, Republic Warfare Museum

* * *

Night had fallen on Coruscant. In the labyrinth of covered walkways that radiated out from the Jedi Temple, all was still. Between the archways, the Jedi Temple Guards stood watch, staring out over the glittering patchwork of light that covered every inch of the planet. Though the city world was entirely devoid of indigenous flora and fauna, it was still very much alive, a place steeped in the living Force.

At a lonely corner, beneath a high-vaulted ceiling, a pair of Guards on patrol paused to stare out over the cityscape. Neither of them saw the outline of the figure above them, and even when they sensed the danger their attacker was upon them before they could move. A brilliant green lightsaber blade pierced the darkness, roaring through the air to cut down the first guard, his deactivated saberstaff clattering to the ground. The second Guard reacted just in time, and a golden blade clashed against the incoming lightsaber. There was a brief engagement as the Guard pushed back, but with a swift move the Guard had their legs swept out from under them.

Then, silence. The attacker, still cloaked in the shadows, looked around to see if he had been spotted. He was just clipping his lightsaber back onto his belt when voice cut through the still night air.

"Krell! What did I tell you before about the disguise kits? They're not toys!"

Former Jedi Master Pong Krell rose from his crouched position, removing his simulator goggles. The dark night of Coruscant vanished, replaced by the dim white glow of an old fluorescent light tube. On the floor at his feet, a pair of what had once been IG-100 Magnaguards lay twitching, their electrostaves lying next to them. The outline of a pair of Temple Guard uniforms flickered briefly around the droids as their disguise kits attempted to compensate for the damage. Finally, their robes melted away in a pixelated cloud, leaving behind the skeletal remains of a droid.

"Dammit, Jedi! Those were my last ones!" Cad Bane prodded the smoking remains of the Magnaguard with his boot. "That's two more you owe me. I can't say the Count's going to be pleased when I add them to his bill."

The fallen Jedi said nothing. Smiling at his handiwork, the former Jedi Master clipped his sabers back onto his belt and sank down into a meditation pose. Adrenaline coursed through his muscular body, carrying with it the now-familiar thrill of the Dark Side.

He had been staying in a safehouse on Nar Shadda for almost a week, and Krell was beginning to grow impatient. He could only stay in the shadows for so long. Now that he had realised his power, it was as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His mind no longer swirled with doubts, but was instead filled with confidence and resolve. He yearned to take his rightful place as the apprentice of Darth Tyrannus. The Sith Lord had been in frequent contact with his new acolyte, and the pair had discussed the past, present and future at length. Dooku seemed particularly fascinated by the visions Krell had had, taking them as a sign of future triumphs.

Krell also wondered just how much longer he would have to tolerate the presence of the bounty hunter. He was utterly unlike the fallen Jedi, an undisciplined character seemingly without scruples, driven not by any goal more grand or noble than money. Through the veil of the Force, Bane did not glow like a Jedi, or simmer in barely controlled rage like a disciple of the Dark Side, seeming instead to broadcast an attitude of supreme indifference.

There had been another bounty hunter staying with them for the first few days that Krell had been on Nar Shadaa. A Zabrak woman, who called herself Sugi, who Bane had introduced as being an important part of the plan. To Krell's delight, Sugi proved far easier to intimidate than Bane, and he had amused himself for the duration of her stay by using his newly found powers to probe into her mind. The mind-tricks and subtle powers of influence he had been trained in as a Jedi were easy to corrupt for his purposes.

Krell's pleasant memories of tormenting Sugi were interrupted by the low drone of the other bounty hunter.

"Come on, Jedi! Break time's over! We move tonight, and it's time to go over the rest of the plan."

After a moment's pause, Krell rose from his meditation position and followed Bane out of the room and into the main living space of the safe house. The bounty hunter's hideout occupied several back rooms of a factory, which had evidently been abandoned some time ago. This was an oddity on a planet as overpopulated and poorly regulated as Nar Shadaa, but Bane had explained the lack of interest in the building as being due to the presence of hazardous waste in another section of the factory. As long as they used the rear entrance, and stayed away from any suspicious looking crates, the bounty hunter had assured Krell there was nothing to fear.

The main space of the hideout was in an old vehicle maintenance bay. The interior was spartan, to say the least, with stacks of instant rations and canned water as refreshments and an ancient portable sonic shower unit for hygiene. A swoop bike, partially disassembled, was leaning against the far wall, next to a row of cabinets containing Bane's mission equipment. The only other things of note in the room were a pair of Holowan IG-series assassin droids that were standing guard at the rear door. Despite their unusual appearances, with tall cylindrical heads and primitive blocky feet, Krell had fought them before and knew to respect their lethality. Bane had told Krell that they were there to discourage intruders, but the fact that they aimed their heavy blaster rifles at the former Jedi whenever he moved too close made it clear that they were also there to keep him in.

"Well, bounty hunter? You've delayed me long enough. Tell me how you'll be getting me into the Jedi Temple undetected."

"Don't go blaming me for the delay! Your master didn't want to tell me all the details until just now." Bane moved to the table in the centre of the room, and activated it with a data stick. A glowing representation of the Coruscant cityscape flickered into life beneath his fingers.

"The Count already had a contract with me to interrupt proceedings in the Senate district. There's a neutral delegation – Lasats, I think – that look like they might be getting ready to sign on with the Republic." Bane waved his hand over the hologram, activating a pre-programmed simulation. "Myself and a few others are going to mount an attack on the Senate District. I'm not kidnapping any senators this time – not getting paid enough, for a start – but there will still be some there to witness the fireworks. The area from here to the convention centre will be a war zone. Should make for a nice distraction and give those Lasat senators a little taste of the war they're so eager to join."

A large rectangular object appeared above the cityscape, descending quickly until it was moving between the skyscrapers. Following a line traced by Bane's finger, the object eventually came to a stop just a few blocks from the Senate building.

"What you're seeing here is the initial stage of the plan. There's a container vessel in a parking orbit around Coruscant right now, loaded with several thousand battle droids. We'll obtain a clearance to land in Sector 4B West, which is here, just beyond the Senate district, but we'll deviate as soon as we've cleared the security checkpoints. As we go, we'll dump droids over the area, and once we land – or crash, depends how quick the security response is – the rest will come pouring out."

Krell considered the map. "I see. With so many droids in the area, it will be a simple matter to launch an assault on numerous sectors that are critical to the Republic. I suggest that the contingents in this area move to destroy the Naval Academy to the west, and the-"

Krell's detailed analysis of the map was interrupted when a large object moved to obscure his view. Looking up, he saw that Bane had pulled up a stool and propped his feet up on the display.

"What…what is the meaning of this insolence? How dare you interrupt me!"

"I'm meaning no offence, _Master Jedi._ " Bane rolled his toothpick between his teeth. "But I don't take orders from you. I've been over this part of the plan a million times. The ship lands, the droids come out, and we let them do some damage. They don't need any objectives besides shooting everything that moves."

"Clearly, you lack the foresight to command troops in the field, bounty hunter!" Krell gestured towards the droid formations on the map. "It would be a wasted opportunity to not try to cripple the Republic leadership with this strike! The Count will be expecting someone with my skill and foresight to make the most of this opportunity."

"You're missing the point, Jedi. The whole thing's just a distraction. You want to cripple the Republic, you can do that on your own time, and with your own droids."

 _Miserable worm…_ For a moment, the urge to wring the neck of the Duros flashed across Krell's mind. A loud snapping sound echoed around the room as Krell cracked the knuckles of his lower pair of hands. Despite the intimidating display, however, the bounty hunter remained impassive, either not realising or caring that each time he made a snide remark he was gambling with his life.

"Well, if we're all agreed on the initial stage, let's discuss the Jedi Temple." Bane paused the simulation and zoomed the display in, highlighting a familiar pyramidal structure that rose above the skyline. "The freighter can't come down too close to the Temple district. Too risky for my escape, and the security response might complicate things for you. You'll have to jump. Not scared of heights, are you?"

"An aerial insertion would indeed be the fastest means of reaching the Temple. I would need to move as soon as possible, to avoid the detection systems around the base of the building. Have you received word from your contacts about my security clearance?"

Bane nodded, indicating a datapad covered in rapidly scrolling Aurebesh. "News came in this morning. My slicer managed to activate some systems within the Temple network using your passwords."

"A waste disposal unit?"

"What were you expecting, the security mainframe? They'd notice that and then your clearance would be wiped." Bane passed over the pad for Krell to inspect. "It looks like the Jedi leadership are keeping your defection a secret, for now. 'Means you've still got clearance in some areas where they don't know to be on the lookout for you. It also means you might not set off any alarms on the perimeter, although the key word there is "might"."

"It will do. I hope your contacts are reliable."

"How were you planning on killing this Ranger guy, anyway?" Bane indicated the long-barrelled rifle that was lying in pieces on the floor next to the map table. "If he's nothing special, I'd just plug him with a sniper blast from a klick or two away."

Krell narrowed his eyes. "You don't need to know that. My mission in the Temple is none of your concern."

Bane shrugged. "The Count never specified, he just sent me the details. Besides, if you're relying on me to get you in and out, then I think I deserve to know what you'll be doing in there."

"I am relying on you to delay the Jedi for as long as possible! After I eliminate the Antarian Ranger, I will move to the Library, where I will attempt to recover as many valuable items as I can. My personal quarters lie close to the library; with any luck, they will have been simply quarantined off, and I can recover some of my personal effects."

"Don't take too long! As soon as things on the ground get too hot, I'm leaving. My droid will bring your starfighter over to the Temple, but he won't be hanging around."

Krell snorted. "I'll take as long as I need. Your droid will have to wait."

"He's got a limited attention span, don't say I didn't warn you." Bane jabbed a finger at a glowing dot on the schematic. "There's a disused hangar bay here, about halfway up the main structure of the Temple. The records say it connects into the old Antarian Ranger facility. If it hasn't been in use for a few centuries, I'd imagine security won't be tight. You can make your entrance here, and your starfighter will land here to extract you."

Krell shook his head. "That's on too high a level. It would be closed during a security alert, especially if the Senate District was under attack."

Bane considered this for a moment, then shrugged. "I guess I'll have to find a way to jam it open. We can figure that out once we get planetside. Get your stuff together, Jedi – we fly tonight."

Wordlessly, Krell returned to his meditation pose. Bane moved over to the row of cabinets, and began noisily piling up blasters, armour and other pieces of equipment on the countertop.

"You know…the Count had another apprentice not too long ago. Nice girl, an ex-Jedi like you. How do you know you're not going to end up like her?"

"I have had a vision."

Bane gave a humourless chuckle. "You're going to tell me my horoscope? How about some winning lottery numbers?"

"The Republic is going to lose this war, bounty hunter. The old institutions of power – the Jedi, the Senate, the Supreme Chancellor…all of them will be swept away, and in their place a new order will rise. And I intend to rule as part of it."

Bane loudly slammed the doors of the cabinets, and began to field-strip one of his blasters. "Yeah, sure. So long as this new order needs people to do its dirty work, then I don't mind a regime change."

Only now did Krell open his eyes. Rising to his full height, the former Jedi Master folded his arms and glared at Bane. "Surely a bounty hunter of your experience would know the value of keeping his mouth shut."

"Or what? I'm on the Count's payroll, and any more damage you do is going straight on his bill, with your name next to it. You got that?"

The air was rent by a sudden snapping sound. As Bane watched, the two assassin droids standing guard at the door crumpled like tin cans, their heads clattering to the concrete floor. The fallen Jedi looked at the droids, then back at Bane, a grin spreading across his face.

"I guess you'll need to add those to the Count's bill too."


End file.
